


Lost Until You Found Me (Full Version)

by Lethallan97



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, Angry Fenris (Dragon Age), Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Bath Sex, Bathroom Sex, Broken Fenris, Caring, Caring Solas, Depression, Dom Solas (Dragon Age), Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Fenris (Dragon Age), Eluvians (Dragon Age), Elven Glory, Embarrassment, Falling In Love, Fear, Fenris is bad at this whole relationship thing, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Grinding, In the Veil, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pain, Past Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Past Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Power Bottom, Prison, Religious Fanaticism, Rough Sex, Rutting, Sex, Smut, Suicide Attempt, The Elven Gods - Freeform, Topping from the Bottom, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethallan97/pseuds/Lethallan97
Summary: With Hawke lost in the fade, a lost Fenris joins Fen'Harel in the hopes that if the veil is torn down he can search for him.Solas wanted Fenris for his lyrium brands, hoping that their power can be enhanced to the extent that they could replace the lost foci to tear down the veil, but the two soon become close. Both are broken men, suffering the loss of a love - Hawke and his beloved vhenan - they find solace in one another in their loneliness and grief... but things are never that easy.----------------This was original written in 7 separate fics, years ago - I always meant to post it as an all in one (just for readers convenience) so here it is! Enjoy, I hope you like it.
Relationships: Abelas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris & Solas (Dragon Age), Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Fenris/Solas (Dragon Age), Past Fenris/Hawke - Relationship, past Solas/Lavellan - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	1. Judgement Day

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE -  
> Please just bear with the POV of the first few parts - this was my first every fanfic when I wrote it and didn't realise everyone hated first person until a bit into it!   
> The vast majority of the fic is in 3rd person. 
> 
> Later chapters are in 3rd person.

I groaned, a hiss pushing past clenched teeth as my vision swam and my head pounded. I pushed myself up to my knees tentatively, every muscle aching. The stone was cold beneath my palms, achingly so, and I gagged as the smell of blood and filth assaulted my nostrils as consciousness began to fully claim me.

My hands were covered in dried blood, knuckles split where I had punched and thrown myself at the steel bars of my prison, like a wild beast seeking only freedom or death.

I lifted my head and looked around me, and saw only a bucket in the corner and a spot covered in lice ridden hay to serve as a bed. My throat was day and ached, and I winced as I licked my chapped lips and reopened a stinging wound.

There was nothing to drink, nor was there food. I had been stripped of my armour and weapons before being beaten it seemed, not that that made me any less dangerous, and the only thing that covered my skin was the mottled blues and purples of bruises and the softly glowing lyrium etched into my flesh casting a faint glow onto the cell floor.

I tried to stand, but my head swam and a tell-tale darkness began to swim in my vision. Better not try that, then.

I crawled on aching knees protesting and dragged myself to the makeshift bedding, and collapsed in a heap upon it. I panted hard, breath billowing in a cloud in the cold as exhaustion took me, and darkness rushed over my head. I fell gratefully into its embrace.

* * * *

“Wake up, shit head!” I cried out as a boot collided with what was undoubtably a broken rib and hot white agony sliced through me. I cracked open my eyes, too bright light blinding me for a moment as a woman cackled.

“Sentencing day! You killed a lot of good folks, and nearly killed my friend too. Now you’re gonna get it.” The woman was an elf with short, sandy hair cropped close to her face, which was twisted in an ugly sneer. She threw something through the bars at me and turned, scurrying off mumbling.

“Fuckin’ elfy, cock-munchin’, arse-face…”, she locked the cell door again, her voice dwindling as she retreated down the hallway and slammed a heavy door, the sound ringing in my ears and slicing through my head like a knife.

I crawled over to what she had thrown, a rock-hard roll of bread and what looked like a waterskin. I grabbed the skin in near desperation, immediately uncorking it and bringing it to my lips, groaning in relief. The water was stale, obviously had been in the skin for far too long, but it felt like pure ambrosia to my parched throat. I grabbed the roll next and, not bothering to pull it apart, just attacked it with my teeth and devoured it quickly, despite the effort leaving my gums aching.

A pair of smallclothes were hanging from the bars at the door, and I grabbed them to pull them on. A small strip of cloth fell out, and I froze. It was my crimson token, that had been hidden away inside the smallclothes… no doubt Varric’s work, some sort of apology maybe.

I reached for it, clutching it tightly, and clenched my eyes as if closing out the world would make it go away entirely.

This was his. Once this had encased my wrist, a reminder of who I had become and who I fought to be with. Who I loved. Now, who I lost.

I clenched my teeth, jaw aching, and choked up, gasping for breath as I felt my cheeks grow wet and my vision blur. Hawke was gone. Gone because of that bitch that had left him behind, that so called Herald of Andraste who saved the world and healed the sky, who destroyed my world. She saved the shell of the broken one I knew before. A world riddled with hatred, fear and atrocity. A world that wasn’t worth saving.

That was why I came here. That was why I ripped the still beating hearts from the chests of her guards, why I almost did the same to her. I would have, had a familiar grief stricken face behind a crossbow not sank into my shoulder, and a mountain of Qunari not buried me, pinning me helpless to the floor.

I snarled, the skin of my hand splitting in a the blissful distraction of agony as my fist drove into the floor, blood smearing beautifully across the stone. I stood, revelling in the pain that shot through my body as it protested the movements, and I pulled on the smallclothes and tied the blood stained token around my wrist.

The door opened once again, the clang echoing ominously as three men entered, followed by a dark haired woman with short hair and scar across her left jaw. A frown was on her face, but her eyes turned to pity when she saw me, a blood and tear stained mess on the floor with my face like furious thunder.

“I… You need to come with us. I would rather not make this more… unpleasant that it has to be.” She spoke with a thick Nevarran accent, and had an air of authority about her, but she didn't manage to keep her voice steady. Her eyes were downcast, to the floor. No… to the token around my wrist.

I narrowed my eyes, rising to unsteady feet. My hands clenched into fists and nails broke the skin of my palms. I did not need her pity.

“I will be pleasant. I will be pleasant, when that bitch lies dead and Hawke walks through these halls.” I snarled, my brands lighting and their comforting, familiar ache spreading over my body. 

The woman sighed, as if she regretted this, and cast her eyes down as she waved a hand to the other three. One, a heavily built redheaded man withdrew his sword, and advanced on me with the other two close behind.

I snarled, and waited, like a snake waiting for the perfect time to pounce.

One reached for my injured arm, and that was it. I grabbed the man’s shoulder and lit my brands before thrusting my hand into the man’s chest, crushing his heart within him. I reached for the other man, ready to end this man’s pitiful, worthless existence until I heard a familiar voice.

“Fenris, stop.” The dwarf pushed past the Nevarran woman, and stood in front of my next prey. Varric stared at me, eyes shining with unshed tears and a hand spread out as if to calm a startled beast.

“He wouldn’t want this. You know he wouldn’t.” He begged, and that was strange to my ears. The dwarf who joked and told wild storied, looking at me like he didn’t even know who I was anymore.

I looked down at my fist, at the fresh wet blood coating it, with little chunks of flesh clinging to my fingers. On my wrist, the token lay soiled with blood. I dropped my hand, shoulders beginning to shake as tears spilled down my cheeks again, and two hands pushed me to my knees and bound my hands in front of me, before lifting me roughly with a hand beneath each arm.

My head hung down, staring at the cobbles. I could feel their gaze on me, could hear Varric telling them to be gentle with me if they could. I didn’t want that though. I needed the pain, needed it to ground me so I didn’t fall into memories of things I could never have again.

Judgement day had come. With any luck, the Inquisitor would just kill me. This world wasn’t worth it anymore.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Magic thrummed in the air, itching at my skin like insects, and I spun around on the cell bedroll, my hands planted firmly on the floor and my knees pulled beneath me, ready to pounce at the first sign of danger.

“So, you are the lyrium warrior I have heard so much about. Not exactly what I expected, I admit.” A calm voice floated from the darkness, seeming to come from every direction at once

“Reveal yourself, mage.” I snarled. I was useless blind. I activated my brands, the lyrium thrumming against my skin uncomfortably, casting a blue glow across the cell.

“You sensed my magic from this distance? That is… remarkable, for a non-mage.” The voice mused, growing louder as the speaker approached. I crouched lower, muscles ready to spring, and I felt for the wisp of magic in the air to give him away… and… there.

I launched myself towards the cage bars to the left of the cell, and closed my arm around a pale neck. I bared my teeth, growling and yanked the mage's face closer.

A bald elf, dressed in what looked to be fine elven armour, with the skin of an animal bound across one shoulder and a traveling cloak hood fallen back to reveal his pale face. Magic pulsed underneath the fingers around the elf’s neck, greater than I had ever felt before.

“Abomination!” No mere man could have much power, not without demons involved. I squeezed harder, but the man only smirked and flicked his fingers sending me flying into the back wall. I hissed, pain lancing through my back as I slid back down to the floor.

“I am no abomination, da’len. Nor do I wish to harm you, so it would be preferable that you stay down.” He walked calmly, completely unaffected, as if he had not just a moment ago been strangled through the iron bars.

“Did I kill one of your friends, too? If you are here to kill me, I am afraid you are a little late.” I spat out the metallic taste in my mouth and gave a dry laugh. The elf stopped outside the iron door and inspected the lock.

“I did hear about your little…. Rampage. Your sentencing as well. It is not often that the Inquisitor resorts to death sentences, but you did almost kill her and successfully killed… was it 22 of her men?” his eyebrow rose delicately, seeming slightly impressed.

“23, as of yesterday” I looked over at the blood stained onto the floor of the cell, where the red headed man had died.

“Indeed? Quite impressive. However, time is short. I come to you with an offer, little wolf.” He gracefully clenched his hand into a fist and jerked it back, a sharp tang of magic permeating the foul air and making my markings flare in the dark. The deadbolt of the cell unlocked and swung open, and the man stood in the doorway.

“An offer?” I scoffed, “I do not know who you are, be you an abomination, a demon or an elf. Yet you expect me to accept an offer?” The man walked forward and stood in front of where I had fallen, looking down at me with a slight smile.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions…”


	2. Agony

“I will not sit here idle with twiddling thumbs, mage!” I gritted my teeth, glaring at the mage. Solas was perched behind an intricately carved desk, laden with papers and reports, in a sparsely decorated room of cold stone. His eyes narrowed at me, mouth downturned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I have no use for a lyrium lined corpse, Da’fen.” He sighed, shuffling some of the papers in front of him. He stood, walked around the desk and leaned on it with his arms crossed tightly as he scowled. I growled, the hand at my side clasped into a fist as I began to pace, gesturing wildly with the other.

“Do not call me that. I am a warrior. This is a war. Your war. If I knew your proposition was to bring me here as a trinket to sit upon your mantelpiece, I would—“ The mage bit out a sharp laugh, cutting me off.

“You would have rotted in that cell until you died of starvation, or were executed.” He leaned away from the desk and took a few predatorial steps forward, crowding my space and looked down his sharp nose with barely suppressed fury bubbling behind his eyes, his mouth twitched further into a scowl.

I suppressed a flinch as his agitated magic thrummed against my skin and instinct told me to look away, submit, but I clenched my fists tightly at my sides and set my jaw in defiance as an answering rage kindled in my chest to answer his own.

He regarded me for a moment, before something I couldn’t determine flickered in his eyes and he stepped back, turning away to regard the view out of the open window on the other side of the room.

“You are a capable warrior. I am aware of this…”, he turned back and looked me in the eye, “but there is only one like you in this world. I cannot risk another failure. You will remain here, train my people, but you are forbidden to join any of the outgoing groups. Do not ask me again.” I snarled, lip curling and threw my arm up in exasperated fury. I turned to the door as the rage seared through my veins, stalking to it and thrust it open before closing it behind me with a childish bang.

A small elven serving woman jumped, almost dropping her linens as she looked at me with horror and scuttled away. I stalked down the hallways, breathing deeply through my nose as I supressed the urge to punch something and I winced at a small twinge of pain in my side.

One flesh wound, from a blade that slipped past my defences in a moment of carelessness, was all it took for the mage to pack me away like some delicate antique that would shatter at a breath. What was the point of having me here, if I could not fight for this cause of his? I needed this to end, quickly. I needed it… for him.

I snarled at nothing and tore my eyes from the scarlet fabric around my wrist and descended a spiral staircase, heading towards the training grounds. Maybe punching something would take away this feeling pulsing through my veins.

That, or I might just slip up and punch the Dread Wolf himself.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Keep your guard up, fool.” I lunged, fist impacting with a sickening crunch into the jaw of the mage in front of me. The boy, barely past adulthood, was one of a small group that stood off to the side that had been brought to me by one of the sentinel generals that I had met a handful of times before.

Abelas had insisted that the mages needed to know how to defend themselves, should they ever find themselves on the receiving end of a spell purge. As loathe as i was to interact with young mages, their untamed magic biting at my skin, it was nice to feel the crunch of flesh beneath my knuckles rather than a training dummy, even if the rage still sat just beneath my skin, ready to surface at the first sign of provocation.

The boy groaned, hand clutched to his shattered jaw as healing magic flowed into it, knitting the bone together in minutes. He whined and glared like the petulant child he was.

“You didn’t need to shatter my bloody jaw, you psycho!” I paced, impatient, as the boy continued to rub at it even after it was fully healed.

“If you had kept you guard up, protected your face as I told you the last two times, you would not have needed the reminder!” I snarled. I was likely being too rough, the boy was young and had obviously had no experience fighting like this before. A city elf taken to the circle, would be my guess, but damn did it feel good to have the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Hands up.” I taunted, raising my fists again and spreading my legs for balance. The boy looked over to his friends. Specifically, at two pretty little elven girls in the group with dirty blond hair, around his age that were giggling behind their hands at him. The boy’s brow furrowed, looking back and forth between the girls and me. I smirked, supressing a chuckle at the boy’s obvious frustration. Which ,unfortunately, seemed to be a bad move.

The boy's jaw clenched at that and he looked from them back to me, then he grinned. Magic stirred in the air and I scowled, opening my mouth to reprimand the boy.

“No magic here, boy, you’re impressing no—“ My eyes widened, and I heard screaming as the ground rushed up to meet me. I tried to look up as searing pain raced across my skin and pierced to the bone, every nerve ending on fire. My muscles spasmed and pulsed, and I curled in on myself as the lyrium in my flesh burned in white hot agony as it flared to life.

The screaming went on and on, others yelling around me and horrified screams of terror surrounded me. The boy was on his knees in front of me, wide eyes filled with tears as his hand fluttered uselessly, and he babbled as people scattered in all directions behind him.

“I.. I didn’t… I don’t… Creators…” He reached towards me, but cried out as he clutched his hand where his palm touched a line of lyrium. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, his skin bubbling where it had touched, and he cried harder.

f

I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain flashing even hotter as the boy tried to push healing magic into me. I lay, screams continuing around me, clawing deep welts into my neck to stop the pain for what felt like hours.

Rapid footfalls approached as I tried to pry my eyes open, my eyelids heavy like sandpaper.

“You’re a fool boy, clutching like a child at magic you do not understand!…” The voice was familiar, but a new wave of pain pulsed over me and I forgot to care. The screaming started again, hoarser this time, and I realised with a start that the screams were my own..

A cool hand touched my forehead, and a hiss sounded as flesh burned, but it did not retreat as I felt more magic probe at my flesh, setting off another wave of screams.

“Shhh…” the pained voice comforted, “My apologies, Da’len, but I must find out what was done.” I tried to reply, but all that came from my raw throat as a pathetic whimper. I pushed my head into the magic cooled palm, curling further in on myself as my body was wracked with spasms.

The hand was removed, and I cried out at the loss, only to be hushed once more as strong arms slid under my spasming form and cradled me close. I felt myself being lifted and pulled close to a solid body. I whimpered and buried myself as far into the man’s chest as possible, seeking the comforting rhythm of his rapid heartbeat. The man hissed through clenched teeth and I pried open my eyes, seeing lines burned through his armour and flesh where my chin had touched.

I whined, pulling away, but I felt the man shake his head and pull my body closer as the hand supporting my back stroked comfortingly through my hair. I let him, as another shock ran through my body and I opened my mouth to let another pained scream loose into the man’s chest as he began to run.

Darkness was beginning to creep into the corners of my vision. Please, please let me pass out. Please. 

My head lolled in the man’s arms, and I felt soft fabric under me as I was gently set down. I followed the hands as they left, straining for the comfort of their cool touch, but they gently pressed me back down onto the bed. The pressure of soft lips on my sweat drenched temple made me stop, and I pried my eyes open in confusion.

I expected dark, scruffy hair and a face lined red with warpaint, but instead I saw nothing but burned flesh and the concerned, pitying face of the dread wolf above me. My last thought was of how nice it was, to feel lips on my feverish skin and fingers in my hair again, as the last of my consciousness slipped away.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Warmth. A strange sensation, not the burning heat I remembered, but a comfortable cocoon wrapped around my body. Sensations began to trickle back, my body ached like an overworked muscle and my skin felt clammy, covered in a thin film of sweat.

My eyelids were heavy, scraping uncomfortably as I pried my eyes open and hissed as the light bombarded me. I blinked hard, looking down to see my body buried, nestled in a velvety soft duvet, and felt a mountain of plush pillows below my head propping me up. I shifted, turning my head, and hissed as pain spiked down my spine at the movement.

“Do not try to move.” A rustling sound came from the other side of the room, at a small desk.

Solas stood, moving towards the bed slowly. He was clothed only in a pair tight green leggings and a loose white shirt that hung down to expose one milky shoulder. My eyes widened, lips parting in horror at the strip of exposed raw flesh on his chest, skin puckered and glistening an angry red. The same pattern was repeated on both his forearms, except there the lyrium had melted his flesh almost to the bone. He followed my eyes, and he looked almost sheepish for a moment.

“Ah, yes, a bit unsightly I suppose…” I scowled, looking at him in horror as he poked at the wound lightly and winced.

“Why have you not healed it!?” I rasped, my throat scratching painfully. He shrugged, and moved to sit on the end of the bed.

“Lyrium burns like these are much different from an ordinary wound. Healing magic had no effect on them. It matters not, they will heal on their own in time.” I frowned, mouth gaping.

He had done this for me. I had yelled at him, cursed him, and yet he still suffered this for me. He would bear the scars to prove it. I averted my eyes, fidgeting, not knowing what to do.

“What happened?” I coughed, my voice breaking slightly on the words.

“The boy, Coralan….” He frowned and shook his head, “He did not know. He reached out, thought he could draw upon your lyrium to fuel a spell. He grabbed at you, like a greedy child. He triggered a form of… in-built punishment, meant for the worst form of disobedient slave.” His face curled in disgust, fist tightening in the bed sheets.

“I brought you here and began to siphon off power as it was produced, until the process ended naturally. The boy has been reprimanded for his recklessness.” I frowned, and he held my gaze.

“I… regret what happened before. Had I allowed you to find your purpose here outside of this fortress, this may not have happened.” I laughed bitterly, and dropped my head backward onto the pillow below.

“You save me from a week of agony, and you’re the one apologising to me?” I chuckled. Solas blinked a moment, surprised, before the corner of his lips twitched upward.

“I suppose there is a certain irony in that.” He smirked, and rose from the bed, hand briefly reaching to brush a stray stand of hair from my sticky forehead. I blinked, shying away from the intimate moment.

“Rest now. You’ll need to be in full health, if you are to fight for me outside these walls.” He looked down at me, eyes warmed by humour, and turned to leave.

“I… Thank you, Solas.” I whispered, hoping my raw throat would be enough excuse for my hesitancy.

He looked back, staring at me briefly, before nodding solemnly and leaving me to my rest.


	3. Desire

enris gasped, rough bark digging into his back where he was pinned, and a familiar set of rough, dry lips assaulted his own. Rough stubble scratched in a glorious burn against his jaw, and an eager tongue pressed insistently against his lips.

He moaned, fisting his hand in long, dark locks of hair and felt that hot tongue slip past his lips, chasing and dancing with his own. Large, calloused hands pinned his hips hard against the tree behind. He pushed forward, that flushed chest suddenly bare and crushing against his own and a hard bulge pressed against his answering one.

Hawke released his lips, head moving lower to nip and lick a hot trial down his neck. He threw his head back, panting as pleasure and adrenaline raced through him. Hawke sucked the spot behind his ear, and his hips bucked, mouth falling open in a silent cry as heat seemed to run straight from Hawke’s mouth to the aching bulge constricted in his leggings.

Hawke chuckled, breath hitching as Fenris rolled his hips forward, his aching cock grinding into Hawke’s as he moaned. Fenris’ hands flew down to grasp his arse, pulling him tighter against him.

Fenris buried his head into Hawke’s neck and panted as he thrust, making him choke out something between a moan and a cry. He threw his arms behind Hawke’s head, needing his lips on him again as they clashed and rutted like beasts chasing release.

_So close,_ Fenris thought, _just a little bit more…_ He pulled away from Hawke’s plundering lips, looking him in the eyes as his head fell back against the tree.

“Hawke! I…” Fenris stopped, something catching his interest in the corner of his eye.

Drops of red fell from his wrist, hitting the forest floor with a small, liquid thud. He furrowed his brow, confused. _Am I bleeding?_ He brought his wrist closer, inspected it for signs of a wound, but the blood was only coming from one place – the scarlet token, wrapped tightly around his wrist. The token. Hawke.

He looked back to Hawke’s face and saw lilac eyes glowing faintly were there should have been beautiful emerald green. He looked around, confusion wrapping around him like a cloud, and he pushed his broad shoulders away from him.

“This… this isn’t right.” The man who wore Hawke’s face laughed, the sound echoing far deeper than it should have. Fenris looked back, eyes widening as he suddenly found his hands pinned painfully into the bark above his head. He scowled, as the creature's face pushed closer, and the voice that came out of its mouth was unmistakable. Desire.

“Tsk, tsk… What a pity. We were having so much fun.” It’s tongue slipped between it’s lips, licking a hot wet trail along the lyrium lines on his chin and tilted its head quizzically.

“You taste so good…” It let out a sinful moan, keeping him pinned with one unnaturally strong hand as the other trailed down to rub at his bulge, still rock hard between them.

“Don’t leave so soon, lover boy…” Fenris scowled, understanding slowly coming to him in waves.

Hawke was dead. This demon wore his face, defiled his image. He snarled, eyes narrowing and lyrium flaring to life as a pulse of pure rage washed through him. It shuddered at that, seeming to take pleasure from the rush of magic.

“You do not deserve his face, demon! How about I rip it from you?” He struggled, pushing against the hand restraining him and it tutted, a sarcastic whine leaving it’s mouth.

“Promises, promises… What face would you like me to wear then, hmm?” It smirked, face contorting and shifting into tanned skin, dark hair and a pair of firm breasts pressed into his chest as it leaned in.

“How about this, hmm?” A familiar Ravaini voice said as it leaned in, lips coming in to try to steal a kiss. He turned his face away scowling, and scoffed at it.

“It’ll take more than the pirate whore to keep me here, demon.” It leaned in, breath tickling his ear as it sniffed at him.

“Do not worry, I will find it. There is always someone…” It looked into his eyes and a faint pressure felt like it was poking around in his head. Poking and prodding until the sensation of cool, soft lips on his temple was dragged to the surface. Its eyes lit up in glee and it smirked as its face began to blur and shift again.

“Ah, there it is…” The voice grew deeper this time, familiar. Its skin became paler and its hair shed. Isabella’s soft chin and nose sharpened, its ears growing back into points. It chuckled in that deep voice, and the sound sent an involuntary shiver straight down to his aching cock, still pulsing with need between his legs.

It leaned forward, velvet lips pressing to his with an insistent pressure and Fenris paused as it forced its tongue between his clenched lips. He pushed half-heartedly at the hand restraining him, a groan slipping past his lips as that skilled hand rubbed in a glorious rhythm on his cock. The heat was building again, and he panted and growled as guilt and shame rose in his throat… but the image of those broad, pale shoulders and the feel of those hands pinning him made him bite his lip as his hips twitched involuntarily. He gasped, pressure building as he gave in and thrust forward. It was easy enough to forget where he was.

_It’s just a dream…_ He thrust forward once more, eyes snapping to movement over the demon’s shoulder. He cried out, pressure finally snapping as he came harder than he had in a very long time …. While staring right at the half-hidden form of the real dread wolf, hiding in the shadows.

\----------------------------------------------

Solas sighed, shifting in frustration where he sat cross legged on a moss covered cobblestone floor. Grand stone walls towered around him, with a domed ceiling open to the sky above, and stone carvings and tapestries of wolves littered the place in dedication to his former self. This place had fallen long ago, but here in the fade the memory still stood intact.

The air was thick with magic, pulsing and throbbing like an infected wound around him and making it almost impossible to concentrate. Magical glyphs glowed faintly around him, flaring at the magic that pulsed in the air and he growled in frustration as one of the glyphs snapped with a sharp influx of magic too strong for it to bare.

“Fenedhis!...” He sighed, a hand coming to rub at his temple in frustration. Something was causing a disturbance, even the spirits in the temple could feel it.

He rose, habitually brushing non-existent dirt from his leggings as he looked to one of the spirits of wisdom that resided here. The wisp’s form flowed and pulsed softly like the glyphs as it floated aimlessly about the room.

“Lasa Ghilan, Falon…” He turned towards his friend, and it drifted closer to him in response.

“Ma nuvenin… Vir sumeil, garas.” He nodded his thanks, following the spirit. With each footstep, the ground seemed to meld and shift as he moved through the fade. They walked for some time, until the spirit stopped and moved past him.

“Dara. Ma ane tel'u, Falon.” The spirit whispered, before heading back the way they came.

Solas’ brow furrowed. Was that meant as warning, or advice? He stepped forward, weaving through the shadows of the forest with the crunch of soft pine needles breaking underfoot.

There was noise now, a dull thud followed by panted gasps. His brow furrowed, rushing forward now. Was someone in pain?

The forest was breaking towards a small clearing, where less trees grew to block the light. He stopped, mouth dropping open in surprise as the source of the sound came into view.

A burly man with dark hair had someone pressed to the trunk of a tree, but the aura was unmistakably a spirit of desire. It’s hips ground mercilessly into the crotch of its prey, and wet sounds echoed through the air as lips clashed together again. Tanned hands appeared, scrambling for purchase on the demons behind as a deep moan penetrated the air.

_A demon could not create this much disturbance_ , Solas thought. _The source must be elsewhere…_ He took a silent step forward, cautious to not alert the demon. It would be better to wake this soul, before it found itself possessed. Those tanned hands slid upwards, grasping behind the demon’s neck as it leant in to attack and suck at its victims neck… only to stop him in his tracks as it revealed a shock of white hair and a face contorted in pure ecstasy, as familiar lyrium lines flared to life and pumped another wave of power into the air.

Solas’ lips parted and he released a sharp breath in shock. Fenris’ glistening, kiss swollen lips dropped open and he gasped again as his hips shifted restlessly.

“Hawke, I…” Solas’ heard him moan, his voice filled with lust, before he paused. Confusion washed over his face, obvious even from a distance. The demon pushed his hands roughly above his head, and Fenris’ spine arched beautifully in response.

“This… this isn’t right.” Fenris shouted in confusion, pushing against the hand restraining him. The demon chuckled, voice changing to reveal its true self.

To become aware in the fade was a difficult enough task for even a mage, it was highly unlikely a non-magic user could have manged it but it seems that Fenris was defying all logic. Even if he was becoming aware, it was nearly certain he would not remember this upon waking. No non-mage in existence was capable of that, without magical assistance.

“Tsk, tsk… What a pity. We were having so much fun.” The demon leaned forward, licking the lines of lyrium on his chin while it moaned and Solas ignored the pang of jealousy in his core. It wouldn’t be the first time he wondered what those lines tasted like.

“Don’t leave so soon, lover boy…” The demon laughed as Fenris scowled, realization flooding across his face as his usual captivating anger returned.

“You do not deserve his face, demon! How about I rip from you?” Fenris struggled now, barely contained rage contorting his features into a mask of fury that really should not be as tempting as it was.

_So this is the famous Champion of Kirkwall?_ Solas thought. 

“Promises, promises… What face would you like me to wear then, hmm?” It chuckled menacingly, form shifting to a scantily clad woman with tan skin and a huge bust. Solas suppressed a chuckle as Fenris’ face contorted into a horrified sneer and he growled something he could not make out, still panting into the still air around them.

Solas resolutely ignored the twitch in his leggings, cock hardening at the image of Fenris’ sweat slick chest arching and panting in anger against the demon, as it licked at his neck in mock tenderness.

The demon chuckled, lips whispering something into his ear too quiet for him to hear until its mouth slipped open, tongue darting out the moisten it’s lips as it chuckled.

“Ah, there it is…” Its face shifted again, tan skin slipping away to become paler and hair dripped away like wet paper before disappearing into the ground below. It’s ears grew longer and shoulders broadened, into… oh.

Solas’ gasped silently, cock hardening at the sight of his own lips bombarding the other elf’s tan ones and his own hips grinding into his. The demon licked its way into his mouth, and he could hear the other elf groan in frustration, as his hands pushed against their restraint. Fenris let out an involuntary sound, almost a whimper, as he pushed forward with a jerk and snapped his hip forwards in one quick motion as they rutted together.

Solas swallowed hard and suppressed a low jealous growl, resisting the urge to simple stride forward and take the elf in hand, while he licked every line of lyrium along that hard body until the tanned muscle twitched and that tight control splintered underneath him.

Fenris shuddered beautifully, back arching further than it should have as his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp and his eyes flew open and stared directly at him before he vanished, demon groaning in disappointment as it lapped up the remaining energy that lingered in the air.

Solas panted shamefully, adjusting the hardness in his leggings as he panted in arousal and turned away from the scene, disgusted at himself.

It was a very, very good thing the elf wouldn’t remember this in the morning… and if his thoughts were plagued with more than a few more visions of a certain tanned elf on his knees, he wasn’t about to let anyone know it.

\---------------------------------------------------

Fenris woke with a start, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and his own unsteady breath panting into the cold night the only sounds to be heard. He scrunched his eyes closed, failing miserably to calm himself.

He sat up, bare chest covered in a thin film of sweat and he screwed his face up in disgust at the uncomfortable wet patch that had bloomed in his leggings.

“Fenehdis lasa…” He whispered into his hand in disgust, blinking the remaining sleep from his eyes. It wasn’t anywhere near dawn yet, the sky outside his window still an inky black save for the faint green glow behind the clouds where the breech had scarred the sky.

He swung his legs over the side of his meagre cot and scowled, tugging the sticky leather down his legs and tossing them as far as they could go across the room, where they landed with a dull thud before sliding down the stone wall. The water in the wash bowl on the simple beside cabinet from the night before had turned ice cold during the night, but it would have to do.

He scrubbed the skin of his thighs until they were an angry red, disgust and shame curling in his chest. He threw the cloth the same way as the leggings, and rose to pace the room. He resolutely ignored the almost painful feeling of the cold stones beneath his feet and the chill reaching rather unpleasant places on his naked body, and began to pace with his fists clenching and flexing at his sides in agitation.

He had watched. He had crept into his dreams and watched, like a thief in the shadows. He had forgotten that he the elf was infamous for being a Somniari, working diligently towards the cause even in his sleep, but that did not give him the right to invade the minds of others as they slept _._

Fenris snarled, a hand creeping into his hair to tug painfully at it, the sharp sting grounding him. How stupid could he be, to let a demon get that close to him.

The damned elf’s soft lips on his feverish skin and what should have been uncharacteristic kindness had plagued his thoughts for weeks, but he did not _desire_ the elf. As the wounds on the man’s arms and shoulder had healed from the angry raw red, to the pale pink of new flesh Fenris’ thoughts had run rampant.

He could not comprehend why the man would have done such a thing for him. Fenris had been in pain yes, but what had been triggered had been meant as a punishment, not as a death sentence. He had no value to his previous magister master dead after all, so when the other elf had touched his head and discovered what was happening, he could have simple left him there content in the knowledge he would still be able to perform his duties after the magic had run its course.

He had made sure not to even _try_ to discover his motivation for personally seeing to his care after… from what he had heard the process of syphoning off the power hadn’t been a pleasant one… or the motivation for his lips upon his temple.

Fenris had been cautious to keep their encounters brief since then. He had given his thanks, the elf had accepted and they had moved on. Fenris got his assignments through generals most of the time, so they had barely seen each other and when they did it was nothing if not professional. Every time he saw his arms, those thoughts would come again and a suspiciously warm feeling welled in his chest… which he quickly attributed to guilt.

He stopped pacing and retrieved his spare leggings and armour, and dressed quickly. Sleep would not come to him again tonight, not with those thoughts whirling around in his head. He would just have to avoid the elf even more from now on…

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Avoidance had worked perfectly for Fenris… for all of five minutes. He had spent the time till dawn beating the life from a magic animated training dummy with his bare hands, until his knuckles were bloody and raw, before he started heading off to the long hall within the fortress that served as the mess hall.

As dawn had approached and the birds had started to wail, the fortress had slowly come to life. Servants were the first to begin scurrying about, cooks running to and from the mess hall with their arms piled high with breads and other ingredients, while other servants were running around frantically to complete their morning duties. All of them stared openly at him as they passed, which was not unusual. It was no secret that he was important, even if they had tried to keep his identity on the down low it would have been obvious… his usefulness was literally branded upon his skin.

He glared at anyone who dared look at him directly, sending servants nervously scattering in every direction as he stalked into the hall. The long tables were laden with breads, cooked eggs and some strange elven sweet pastries that Fenris had never seen before coming here. The morning meal was the same every day, but somehow those delicious pastries never seemed to become tiresome, one with a cinnamon apple flavouring packed inside was a particular favourite of Fenris’.

Fenris grabbed some bread and cheese alongside two of the delicious apple pastries, before he stalked over to a table on the far end of the busy hall. Abelas and another younger general he had met many times, Banal’ras, sat at the table eating their meagre meals in companionable silent. While he did not particularly want company, both the men were the quiet, contemplative type so there would be few words spoken here if he did not wish to.

Fenris nodded his greeting to the men, who returned the greeting with a slight incline of their hooded heads as he sat and tucked into the meal. He bit into some of the bread and cheese, saving the best part for last, and stared down at the crumbs falling to his plate as his thoughts wandering.

He had no assignments outside the fortress for now, but he could sneak out as additional forces with the next outgoing team… he needed to keep as far away from the dread wolf as possible, which wasn’t exactly an easy task when you were residing within the same walls.

Fenris continued to muse, until he finally lifted his delicious final prize. His mouth watered, as the light green substance oozed out as he lifted the pastry to his mouth. The scent crept into his nostrils and the taste bloomed on his tongue, easily the best part of his morning and he had to suppress a satisfied groan. He closed his eyes, chewing slowly. Perfectly content, until a sharp chuckled sounded far too close to his ear.

“Enjoying that, are we?” The deep voice rumbled, so close to his ear he could feel cool breath on the point. His eyes snapped open and he flinched away from the man, pastry tumbling from his lips to the plate with a splat. Solas smirked and rounded the table to the other side, fully clothed in that ridiculously regal golden armour with the overly large fur wrapped over one shoulder, and plonked himself gracefully down beside Banal’ras with his plate, which oddly enough was filled with nothing but small, delicately cut squares covered with some sort of sweet paste, fruit and nuts. Who knew the wolf had a sweet tooth?

Abelas had never been overly impressed or in awe of the ‘dread wolf’ as would be expected, preferring to criticise his decisions and tactics over blind acceptance. That is why he made an excellent advisor, Fenris supposed. Banal’ras however, wasn’t like Abelas. The man was a subordinate of Abelas, much lower in the ranks of command, and the stoic man’s eyes always lit up in awe when the big bad dread wolf came near. The man stuttered his greetings, staring unashamedly, to which Solas politely returned the greeting his eyes never leaving Fenris’ face as he smirked. It made Fenris’ startled expression turn down into a scowl, as he narrowed his eyes as the idiotic man stumbled over his sycophantic words.

“Fen’harel! Adaran athis’an. You are looking well today…” The man continued to babble as Fenris glared, and Solas finally tilted his head in the man’s direction which seemed to make him stupidly pleased. The man was usually very tolerable, but Solas’ presence turned the man into an irritating, ancient elven buffoon. Solas gave him a tight-lipped smile and thanked him, the slight downward twitch at the side of his mouth the only indication of his displeasure. After a moment his patience thinned, and Fenris ground his teeth together before snapping.

“Do you think he wants to listen to you drone on like a love-sick girl all day?” Fenris regretted it immediately. Solas turned to him, brow raised as he rested his chin on his palm and smirked. Banal’ras stopped mid-rant and, of all things, blushed and looked down at his nearly empty plate. Abelas’ normally solemn face gave no indication of any reaction, save for a small upward tilt of amusement to one side of the mans lips, almost undetectable to those who didn’t know his expressions well.

Banal’ras rose from the table quickly, muttering mortified apologies and scuttled away before disappearing completely into the growing crowd. Fenris looked back, only to see Solas still staring at him.

“While it was getting a tad grating, that was a little harsh you must admit?” He chuckled, popping one small cake into his mouth. Fenris’ eyes followed the movement, as a slick pink tongue peaked out quickly to lick up a drop of the sweet cream from his lips.

“And have the man prattle on? I think not.” Fenris scowled, tension beginning to build in his chest. He hadn’t mentioned it yet, but he would. There was no way the man would miss the opportunity to embarrass him in front of a man he respected, it’s what any good strategist would do.

They ate in tense silence, Abelas of course showing no signs of discomfort as the air grew thick between them. His limbs grew tenser, bare foot tapping impatiently on the ground before he snapped, shoving the remaining pastry into his mouth and he rose from the table, leaving the other pastry abandoned on his plate reluctantly with a last longing look at its golden filling.

Solas opened his mouth to say something, but Fenris cut him off with a grunt.

“I have things to attend to.” He growled, turning and all but ran from the mess hall and wandering aimlessly down a nearby hallway. The elf had ample opportunity to say something. Embarrass him, or even just make a snide joke to humiliate him, but he hadn’t. He had eaten his stupid frilly cakes and pretended nothing happened. Pretended watching him come with the man’s hands down his trousers was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worthy of note.

He rubbed his forehead roughly with one gauntleted hand and sighed, turning in the direction of his new destination. He really needed a drink.

\----------------------------------------------------

Fenris smirked as the dark bottle shattered with a satisfying crash against the wall of the wine cellar, watching intently as the glass scattered from his vantage point in the corner, where he sat cross legged with his back propped against the unpleasantly hard wall.

He chucked, assuring himself that what came out definitely wasn’t a giggle. He raised his second bottle of dark red swill to his lips, only to find it disappointingly empty like the last one. He tipped it upside down and shook it, two small bitter drops falling onto his tongue before setting it down a little too hard on the floor beside him. He growled, reaching blindly for another but misjudged the distance and toppled the bottle on the shelf beside it. The dark substance bloomed on the floor as the bottle impacted with a sharp crash, spreading slowly across the cold stone floor as Fenris watched with a sorrowful downturn to his lips. Such a waste.

By now, the whole of the keep was bound to know he fucked _a desire demon_ of all things, with their boss’ face no less. The bastard must be loving this, must love embarrassing and degrading him. Best to wait it out here, drown his shame in a never-ending supply of the cheap dry liquid oblivion.

“Yes, I see you did have very important things to attend to.” A voice rumbled sarcastically from the doorway to his left. Fenris looked up, squinting and growled menacingly at the shadowed form.

“You seem to have forgotten you had actual duties to attend to.” Fenris looked over at the clipped words, Solas’ jaw was clenched and his lips were drawn in a tight line. Fenedhis, the man was pissed.

“Im _busy_.” He hissed, blinking hard to clear some of the haze from his eyes and angrily rubbed at his wine reddened cheeks. He flinched as the elf prowled towards him, lifting him from the ground with one unnaturally strong hand by his tunic.

_He pushed half-heartedly at the hand restraining him, a groan slipping past his lips as that smooth hand rubbed in a glorious rhythm on his cock…_ Fenris shuddered, quickly banishing the memory.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Solas loomed over him, face coming close as he hissed in barely contained fury. _Shit,_ Fenris thought. He could smell him this close, elfroot and an earthy musk unique to him that shouldn’t have been that appealing. He felt lust run through his veins, acutely aware of the hand pinning him to the icy cold wall behind him.

“What is wrong with me? You had _no right_!” He snarled, panting in fury and unwanted arousal. Solas’ grip loosened and he frowned.

“No right to what?” He looked Fenris in the eye, furious expression replaced by confusion and a slight downturn to the corner of his lips. Fenris head fell back with a dull thud and he laughed bitterly. He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to mention it at all, but his head swarm from the wine and his control was slipping.

Solas waited as Fenris hesitated. He clenched his teeth and hoped the wine covered his embarrassed blush, as the memories rushed through his head. He shouldn’t. The man was obviously giving him an out here, playing ignorant to give him the chance to ignore it ever happened.

“Invade my dreams!” He snapped before he could stop himself, and he snapped his mouth shut with an audible clack as regret and shame flooded him. He shoved Solas’ hand from his chest and stumbled past him, swaying slightly as he all but ran for the door.

He didn’t make it, however, as he was bodily slammed into the wall beside the doorway. A hard chest pressed gloriously hard to his back, two palms slammed beside his head to cage him in and a knee came between his legs to pin him. His cheek pressed to the cold stone of the wall, cool against his heated flesh.

“You remember… that…” he sighed, exasperated and far too calm for the situation as he pondered. Fenris panted, each shift of his hips pressing his hardening cock to the wall in a glorious, if incredibly distracting, friction.

Did he think he wouldn’t remember? Fenris couldn’t remember what he was like before the marks were branded upon his body, but he knew that he had always been able to remember his dreams. It was because he was not a mage, he realised. Fenedhis, he really had intended on ignoring it, thought that Fenris had just woke up with a wet crotch and no memory of why he had it. Of course, Fenris had to go and poke at it like a blind fool.

Solas brought his head closed to his ear, his heated breath tickling his ear.

“It would not be a wise decision…” he murmured, almost to himself, before a hot wet tongue licked his ear. Fenris jerked in surprise, a high pitched keening sound escaping his mouth before he could silence it, and the tongue disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

Fenris’ cock was rock hard how, and he panted shamefully aroused with barely a touch. Fenris pushed back suddenly, giving himself room to clumsily turn halfway in the man’s grasp, looking over his shoulder into his predatory graze. Fenris blushed, shame pumping through him almost as powerful as the lust when he saw the heated look.

“Do not **mock me.”** Fenris snarled, voice cracking pitifully, for that was surely what the elf was doing. He had to be taking a sick kind of pleasure from this, his shame. Toying with him.

Solas’ eyes narrowed at him in disgust as he pressed his body against him again, his cheek pressed to Fenris’ flushed one and held him there for a moment.

“If you think that of me then you do not know me very well, Da’Fen.” He murmured, hot breath caressing his cheek before he descended. Velvet lips pressed hard to his own, a wet tongue took no time to press into his mouth and tangle with his own. The angle was awful, Fenris’ neck twisted at an odd angle and teeth clacked, but he’d be damned if it didn’t do the trick.

Fenris moaned and whimpered as teeth pulled at his lower lip, his hips shifting seeking friction, and he whimpered as the lips slid away from his with an obscenely wet sound. Solas chuckled darkly and pulled back to his sensitive ear, nipping it lightly before licking and sucking at the skin of his neck below, drawing a lusty whimper from him.

“Find me, when you have the courage to actually make this choice yourself. Do not neglect your duties again, next time I will not be so… empathetic” He smirked pressing hard and letting Fenris feel the outline of a hard cock on his lower back, before Solas’ body pulled away from him suddenly, Fenris’ weak knees just about able to keep from falling to the floor.

When he looked back, Solas was gone, with only the sound of retreating footsteps left behind. The room was back to being empty, dark and covered in wine and glass shards.

Fenris turned after a moment, back supported by the wall and slipped down it when his knees began to shake. He looked down, his hard cock straining against his leggings, and scrubbed his face with his hands to calm himself before crawling over to the bottle of wine he had left.

_I’m going to need it_ , he thought and scowled as he rubbed at his neck absently. He was pretty sure the bastard had left a hickey.

\-----------------------------------------------------------


	4. Trouble

Fenris scowled darkly at his empty water flask, only a few drops left inside enough to wet his chapped, aching lips. Abelas walked ahead of the company, leading their way through the treacherous terrain and somehow managing to look no worse for wear in this godforsaken wasteland. The rest of the company followed behind their leader, a small mixed band of warriors, rogues and mages. A few servants and pack mules carried their meagre rations and supplies, and they looked even worse than he did. Most of them were Ferelden, unaccustomed to any form of heat never mind this kind of scorching heat. The days were hot, the nights were frigid and the company was beginning to show the strain.

Fenris cursing Solas for sending them here, through the Hissing Wastes of all places. He had claimed it was once a beautiful green forest as far as the eye could see, but now it lay a barren husk upon the earth populated by creatures nobody ever wished to encounter. Solas had indulged him with only a little information on their mission, telling him only that they were to head from the Eluvian in the western approach and proceed north through the hissing wastes. It was more than anyone else in the company got to be fair, only Abelas knew their true objective.

They had been traveling for weeks now, with no indication of how far we were from our destination. Fenris had tried to probe Abelas for the information, but his answers were unnecessarily cryptic. Fenris had thought himself trusted, but with so many unanswered questions he was beginning to doubt himself.

It was another week of trudging and slicing through savage, venomous creatures before they reached their destination with dwindling supplies. It was not too far north to be rid of the unforgiving desert sun, but enough for a few hardy plants to survive and the few flecks of green when they appeared had been a welcome change from the burnt red horizon.

A great wide chasm split the earth before them, and as they approached it became clear that there was a thin, treacherous looking path leading down into the darkness below.

The company kept on forward towards the chasm, before Abelas commanded that they set up camp a short distance away from the crumbling, ancient pathway. Fenris had just finished setting up his tent and was rolling out his bedroll when he heard him approach.

“Come.” Abelas commanded, ever the man of few words, and turned on his heels to stalk away assuming his command would be obeyed. Fenris grunted in affirmation anyway, and smoothed the bedroom flat before rising and following the man.

Abelas walked to the edge of the chasm, staring down the path into the gloomy darkness as he approached.

“This is what we came here for.” Abelas stated bluntly, as if this explained everything he needed to know.

“We came for a pit?” Fenris snorted, “No. What’s down there?” Abelas shifted from foot to foot, contemplating in silence for a moment.

“In the time of ancient Arlathan, this area was one of the most fertile in the world. This place was wild, untamed. The perfect place to hide something you did not want to be easily found.” Abelas turned to him, his face stern.

“Down that pathway, is a small temple. Within that temple, their lies an artefact. Fen’harel could not simply create the veil and thrust the Evanuris through it. There would be too many… possibilities to account for. It would not have held them.” He paused, clasping his hands behind his back and he looked to Fenris.

“A prison.” Fenris surmised, and Abelas nodded curtly.

“Yes. The artefact was used as a counterpart to the foci during the creation of the veil, it created an isolated pocket within which the Evanuris were placed. To reverse the process properly and safely dismantle that pocket, we need that artefact. We move in at dawn.” He turned, ready to head back to the camp but one question burned in Fenris’ mind.

“Why am I here?” He demanded, and Abelas stopped his retreat but did not turn. It didn’t make sense. Solas claimed he was too important to the cause to be put in harm’s way, yet he sends him through a dragon infested wasteland for this? There had to be something else.

“Bait.” Abelas said, and moved away quickly, determination in his steps. Fenris shook his head and scowled, knowing that was all he would be told. He really didn’t like the sound of that.

\--------------------------------

“Fuck!—“ a frantic Ferelden voice shouted as the step beneath his feet crumbled and Fenris thrust one gauntleted hand forward, snagging the young boy’s back armour plate just in time and yanked him back. The boy almost sent them both sprawling as he frantically gripped onto Fenris, panting in panic, as the stone step he had been on crumbled and clacked down into the darkness below.

“T-thank you--“ He started to stutter, wide innocent eyes looking back over his shoulder through his mousy brown hair into Fenris’ stern face. Fenris pushed the boy to the side, where he hugged the rough wall, his head whipped frantically from Fenris to the spot were he had just been… likely contemplating his own fragile mortality. Fenris simply grunted in acknowledgement, and stepped nimbly over the gap that had been made.

The passage was narrow, so they had opted to take only a small group with them into the temple. There were only five of them in total: two mages, the archer boy, Abelas and himself. The over-eager young elf boy, Mouse, had volunteered and pleaded to come on the mission, likely some misguided notion of proving himself worthy. The two mages – Velathorn and Celia - had volunteered as well, if not so eagerly.

It was surprising to see a human mage within their company, while there was a range of races that aided the dread wolf the clear majority of the dread wolf’s forces were elven. Fenris had yet to interact with any other race since he joined, but Celia was a chipper woman. Pleasant enough to be around, though her persistent nervous chatter could be a bit grating.

“Maker, Mousie, don’t be taking a tumble on us!” She looked back at them and nudged Velathorn playfully, and giggled nervously as she saw the boys panicked face. Velathorn barely spoke, the older man responded mostly in grunts and his scarred face was only ever stern and emotionless. He looked back at them with a scowl and ignored her, continuing down the uneven steps, a spell wisp weaving slowly over his head to cast a dull blue glow to light the path before him.

“Test your footing next time. Move on.” Abelas shouted back to them, unamused by the boys near death experience. They trudged on, Celia falling back a bit to chat aimlessly with mouse. The sounds of their footsteps and her lilting voice were the only sounds, echoing back at us eerily. The stairs slowly became wider the further down the got, until they reached a part where the steps turned off, parting from the side wall of the chasm to become free standing and swerving off into the darkness.

“Halt.” Abelas called, hushing the chatter. Abelas hand glowed brightly for a second, before he waved it gently in front of him. Veilfire torches burst to life, blue-green flames flickering ominously and illuminated the bridge area before them. The temple was hardly small, despite what Abelas had claimed. It stood on a free standing platform, the drop into the dark abyss below just as disconcerting as before, and Fenris could not even begin to contemplate how it stood. Magic no doubt, his lips turning down into a scowl at the thought.

“Celia.” Abelas gestured forward, and the woman hummed in affirmation as she scurried forward to the grand wooden doors. They were decoratively carved, but most of the carvings were hidden under masses of vines that had overtaken the temple, curling up the stone walls like grasping tendrils, but time had not yet managed to consume the place. Celia approached a large stone circle in the centre of the door at around head height and placed her hands upon it. Carved ruins began to shine a bright white, as her palms channelled her magic into the abandoned stone. Abelas approached behind her, and placed what seemed to be a small ball of dark stone with runes etched across it’s surface into the centre of the circle, where it slotted perfectly into place.

“Stand back.” Abelas gestured to Celia, who nodded frantically and ran back to the group as the ground began to shake and the circle with its glowing runes split with a thunderous cracking sound. Abelas approached as the last few tremors passed, and gave a light push on one half of the grand tall door, making it swing open silently as if it weighed nothing at all.

“Have your weapons ready. The temples main defences have been deactivated, but do not wander.” Abelas muttered, and gestured for them to follow.

Fenris snorted, and unstrapped his broadsword from his back, taking up his position behind the elf.

“When do things ever go the way they are planned?” Abelas gave him a scathing side look, but the corner of one lip twitched before he moved forward.

The inside of the temple appeared to be relatively untouched by time. White light flooded the place from softly pulsing orbs, held in the twisted clutches of wood stands. A thick layer of dirt and dust coated the place, which was strangely undecorated for a temple of a so-called god. A few depictions of wolves were carved into the walls, and small sculptures scattered haphazardly marked the owner of the temple.

“Well this is… homey?” Celia joked, as she stepped over an ancient skeleton and muttered useless apologies as the hand she stepped on crumbled beneath her foot. The place had obviously been locked and abandoned in a hurry. The skeleton at Celia’s feet was not the only one, some of them with weapons still clutched in their skeletal fingers while others had died curled up in corners. Probably trapped inside, waiting for death. This place had not been secured without a fight it seems.

They walked forward, stepping cautiously over the bones of the dead and crumpling stone, to approached an alter at the far end of the grand hall. Upon the alter there was an ornately carved stone chest, almost like a small casket. Abelas approached it quickly, waving a hand over the box and murmured something. His palm flared at the same time as the box made a small, almost undetectable, clicking sound. Abelas lifted the heavy stone lid of the box, and placed it carefully to the side before reaching in. He quickly concealed the artefact, wrapping it tightly and binding it within cloth, before reaching for the pack hanging across his shoulder.

“Don’t. Move.” Fenris tensed, as he felt the all too familiar cold steel of a dagger placed to his throat. He tilted his head back instinctively, only to be pulled back tighter to the chest of his attacker.

Abelas paused, turning to the side and staring intently at the man behind his shoulder. Footsteps sounded from behind Fenris and the sound of bows being drawn was unmistakable.

“We will be taking the Harellan’mi, Sentinel” A new voice, female, echoed from the way they had entered as Fenris attempted to control his breathing. All he had to do was wait, wait for his moment.

Abelas turned fully now and looked to the bundle in his hand and back up, catching Fenris’ eye. He chuckled darkly, and looked past his shoulder.

“I admit, I hadn’t expected it to be you. You played the meagre part well, Mouse.” Fenris’ brow furrowed and he scowled. Seems he should have let the boy fall to his death, saved us the grief.

“Everyone always underestimates me.” The boy shouted bitterly, blade pressing a little too close and Fenris hissed atthe sting as the blade lightly pierced the skin of his throat and he felt a small trick of liquid spill down his neck. That’s when all hell broke loose.

Abelas yanked his daggers from their sheaths, magic welling in his palms and setting the blades aflame and he jumped into the chaos as the screaming started behind them. Blood gurgled in throats, smothering the sounds of dying screams, and the two mages who had stood frozen a short distance away from him sprung into action flinging spells behind him.

Mouse jumped as the screaming started, breath speeding up in fear as he looked for who was attacking his people. He momentarily lost concentration and the blade left Fenris’ throat for just a moment. A moment was all he needed. He slipped down to his haunches, head clearing the blade before he spun and knocked the boy to the ground with a sweep of one bared foot. His fist lit with lyrium and sunk into the boys chest as he gasped and stared at him, his bottom lip quivering childishly.

“Please…” Mouse whispered, and Fenris paused. A mistake. He cried out, as he felt a short dagger slide into his right side, just before he squeezed his fist and crushed the boys heart. He wrenched his hand from the boy’s chest, chunks of flesh and blood spraying through the air. He paused, down on one knee, panting to catch his breath only to be hit by a wave of pure nausea. He looked down to his side in confusion, clasping the short dagger and yanked it out quickly. His jaw clenched and he grunted at the sharp pain, his vision blurring.

“Fenedhis…” He grumbled, staggering. His wound was not deep, nor was the blade serrated. He should not feel like this. His vision grew steadily darker, floor wavering below him before he slipped. His shoulder landed awkwardly, and a bolt of agony shot through him, but he found he could not move. He forced his heavy head up, in the direction of the main bulk of the fighting.

A pair of armoured legs blocked his view, but at least a dozen men and women lay dead or dying behind them, with only a few left standing being pummelled by fire and ice from the mages. The legs crouched down beside him, and firm hands rolled him gentle onto his back and a familiar face inspected his wound.

“You… bastard… following?...” Fenris muttered, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open as he started into Solas’ concerned face. He chucked at that, nodding briefly, but ignored him in favour of tending to his wound. He pressed a finger inside the wound and Fenris tensed, grunting and panting in pain as Solas lifted the finger to his nose and sniffed it.

“A Paralysing Agent, they brought it for transporting you.” Fenris tried to scowl but found his face was heavy and numb. Solas looked relieved for a moment and pressed a palm to his face, cupping Fenris’ jaw, before he slipped his arms under him and lifted him close to his chest.

Fenris grumbled in protest and Solas simply shushed him as he moved, a mildly concerned Abelas appearing at his side. Abelas murmured, offering to take him from Solas, only for him to shake his head and reject the offer.

“This is… becoming…. a habit…” Fenris mumbled into his chest, lips slurring the words that came without any real heat. He felt a laugh rumble from the chest through him, before he slipped into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

\--------------------------------------------

Fenris awoke with a hiss, his body ached in protest with every jerk and sway of the cart. He pried his eyes opened and groaned as the glaring light blinded him. He squinted, his head felt like a boulder where it lay propped up on what seemed to be a threadbare bag of oats or grains of some kind. He looked around, resulting in his head lolling to the side aimlessly as his temples throbbed in protest at the movement. He could make out the sounds of idle chatter and the sounds of hooves as the cart trudged slowly onward. He furrowed his brow in frustration, as he tried to move his numb fingers. A metallic click could be heard as his gauntlet clad fingers slid against each other, but even that amount of movement left him tired and panting with the effort. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, twitching his fingers and toes in between bouts of exhausted sleep, but the sun now lay low in the sky and glowed a warm red as the cart pulled to a stop. The company stopped and began to set up camp, tents appeared around him and the flickering orange of flames lapped at the growing shadows as fires were lit and food began to cook. The sound of light rapid footfalls approached close to the cart, before stopping and Solas’ face loomed over the side at him.

“Ir Abelas, I did not expect you to be awake. I should have sent someone to check on you.” He frowned, brow furrowing as he inspected him. He leant over the side, lifting his sweat stuck leather undershirt easily and prodded at his now naked side. Fenris growled as a finger trailed over the wound sending a sharp string through him as the other elf hummed his approval.

“It was… disinclined to heal, but there should be no adverse effects.” He murmured, before rounding to the open end of the cart and stepping up onto it. He leaned down, knees touching Fenris’ uninjured side as he leaned over him. He cast his eyes downward, eyes narrowing as the fell to the wound again and he sighed regretfully. Fenris furrowed his brow and frowned, at least his face was more responsive now.

“What--?” Fenris began, voice rough and cracked but Solas shushed him with a shake of his head and slipped his hands under his body, lifting him bodily from the cart.

“I will elaborate on the events that occurred at the temple but… not here.” He jumped down the small distance from the cart to the ground, but the effect was still jarring. A sharp pain sliced through his head as he made his way through the camp. Fenris eyes widened, as he got a better look at the dense green terrain around them, they certainly weren’t anywhere near the hissing wastes anymore. How long was he unconscious?

“How long was I out?” Solas trudged on, glancing down at him as he walked.

“Not as long as you might have anticipated. There was a dormant eluvian within the temple, which I activated, which then took us to the exalted planes. Now we encroach upon the emerald graves, you have only been asleep for 4 days.” Fenris scowled, feeling the tips of his ears heat in embarrassment. He had never been this _useless_ before, being incapacitated at every turn.

“I have never been this… incapable before.” It sounded like a whining excuse even to his own ears, but Solas chuckled and smiled.

“You were never the main target of your enemy’s efforts before.” We had travelled relatively far off from the camp now, and the trees parted as they continued to reveal columns of grand stone, crumbling in places and covered in vines and moss but undoubtedly beautiful. He smiled as Fenris eyes widened, taking in the sight of beautiful circular pools of varying sizes embedded in the ground around the area. The stone bases of the pools were marble, some a beautifully coloured mottled blue while others were a simple pearly white.

“We are here.” He moved forward, before laying Fenris unceremoniously onto the soft grass beside one of the pearly white pools. He waved a hand and the water began to steam and bubble gently, and he began to remove his armour plating.

“Are you trying to drown me?” Solas laughed, delicate gold gauntlets falling to the grass with a thud before being followed by the breastplate. Once all the golden metal lay in a neat pile, he moved to Fenris and slid his gauntlets from his dead weight hands.

“I assure you I will not allow that to happen, Da’Fen.” He looked into his eyes, a serious look that burned into Fenris. He was apologising, Fenris realised. Solas removed his breastplate and remaining armour, before slipping the leather tunic underneath over his head. He smirked as Fenris grumbled in protest at his now bared chest.

“Would you rather sleep in sodden leather? Or would you rather not bathe at all?” Solas raised one eyebrow and pinched Fenris’ leggings, sticky with sweat and dirt. Fenris scowled and glared at him, knowing that the humid night would make the leather unbearable. He sighed and shook his head.

“Get on with it then. Don’t try anything.” One corner of the elf’s lips twitched up, as he grasped the waist of his leggings and began to peel them off him.

“Nothing unprovoked.” He chuckled menacingly, as the cool air ran over his revealed skin. He pulled away when he was done, slipping his own cloth under-leggings off before lifting and prodding Fenris into position beside the pool with his legs dangling over the side. Solas slipped in first, water encased him until just below his chest. Firm soft hands grasped Fenris’ hips and lifted him, pulling him towards the edge and against his supporting chest before slowly sliding him into the water below.

A groan slipped from Fenris’ lips as the heat spread through his aching body, water caressing everywhere it touch as his muscles relaxed into Solas’ chest. A small ledge had been hidden just under the water, and Solas turned him round and pulled Fenris’ back to his chest as he sat back onto the ledge.

“These were mine, before.” Solas sighed, his hot breath washed over Fenris’ neck and his lips tickly lightly at his ear. Fenris frowned in confusion, letting his head fall around to look back at him in confusion. Solas smiled sadly, one hand releasing its grip on his waist to quickly grab something from the pile of his clothing.

“I admit, I wasn’t sure if they still stood. These baths, I had them built. I brought slaves back to one of my camps near here, an age ago when Arlathan still stood…” Fenris growled, tensing as much as his body would allow and Solas huffed at him in disapproval as he pulled his hand back, a small square of soap in his hands.

“I brought the slaves back here to be _freed_ , Da’Fen, do not look at me like that. I removed their vallaslin, and these pools were often the first luxury they experienced that did not come with price….” He pulled Fenris tight against him as he frowned, and began to run the soap gently across his chest to wash away the grime that clung to him.

“I thought you might like this place.” Fenris huffed out air through his nose and supressed a groan as his touch sent shivers through him, his head fell back onto the other elf’s shoulder as a gentle hand following to scrub him clean. Fenris was not dalish, but he had heard snippets of stories since he came here about the dread wolf’s hatred for slavery. He hadn’t thought it to have went as far as to free them. He hummed in approval. The hand was clinical as it cleaned his torso, but Fenris felt his face heat again as he realised his reaction was anything but clinical, that hand stirring places he’d rather not stir right now.

“You told me you would tell me what happened today.” Fenris breathed, changing the subject to give himself something else to concentrate on. Solas paused and sighed, his hands slipping up to massage the earthy scented soap into his shoulders.

“Yes… We have gained traitors in our midst. Mouse and those from the company who rushed to his aid were the first, but there will be more now.” He sighed, and Fenris frowned.

“The inquisition?” Solas shook his head, eyes downcast.

“No, they are… misguided fanatics. They call themselves The Son’s of Elgar’nan. They believe that I am wrong, that I am exactly what the dalish deemed me to be. They are a band of devout dalish fools and outcast city elves, but they have become larger and stronger. They have become more organised… but they are causing chaos. I have chosen to keep their existence a secret from most of more forces for now.” A finger trailed across the lyrium lines on his chest, a nail catching gently on one of his hardened nipples. Pleasure and heat speared to his core as his lyrium flared in response to the magic laying just beneath the other elf’s skin.

“I wish to use your lyrium, and the tool which we retrieved today to destroy the plane in which the evanuris now exist before removing the veil entirely. They could not resist the bait. Both the instruments that both they and I require, in one place, to draw out the bulk of the traitors.” Fenris let out an unsteady breath. As he spoke, he had moved to massage the soap into his thighs under the water. A slight move to the side and he would unknowingly stumble upon his rock-hard length hidden beneath the soapy water.

“I… I don’t care much for being left in the dark.” He muttered breathlessly.

“Ir abelas, but you were being watched. One move out of the ordinary, and they would have known.” He leaned in, his lips brushing his temple gently in apology as his knuckles brushed his cock under the water and he smirked into Fenris’ jaw. Solas pulled him back tight against his chest as a gasp slipped from him, and Fenris shivered at the answering press of hardness now obvious on his lower back. They were still for a moment, panting breath and the sound of the forest the only sounds to be heart.

“ _Nothing unprovoked.”_ Solas quoted and chuckled before eager lips latched onto the flesh behind his ear and sucked hard, teeth nipping teasingly at his neck before a hand cupped his jaw and pulled his head hard to the side. Solas lips clashed with his, swallowing his gasp, insistent tongue plunging into his mouth and teeth nipped at his lips. Solas’ hand slid to the line of lyrium on his neck and his finger dragged a line of pulsing magic downward, pushing pure heat down to his already aching cock. Solas pulled away with a wet sound and a reluctant groan after a moment, hand still holding his jaw in place as he looked into Fenris’ eyes and shook his head. He licked his kiss plumped lips and panted.

“You must tell me that this is what you want, or this goes no further.” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “I commanded you to come to me or this would not happen again, but my willpower seems to be… lacking.” Fenris scowled, panting and wished he had the ability to squirm but his body still refused. Fenris averted his eyes, and Solas began to pull away.

“Wait… ugh.” Fenris scowled as he stuttered, face hot. “Just… do it.” Solas leaned in to his lips again, but stopped.

“That is not an answer.” Solas smirked, breath tickly Fenris’ lips. The seconds ticked by slowly, and Fenris scowled down at his traitor cock.

“Hh… I… Yes…” He breathed, and the reaction was instantaneous. His lips were crushed back to his, teeth clacking with the urgency and the hand on his jaw released him. It slithered down his chest, magic crackling along his markings, and trailed lower to firmly grasp his hard length. Fenris let out a shaky moan and whimpered as the hand tightened and began to move in ernest. This wasn’t going to be a slow affair, Fenris knew. He could feel the desperation in both of their movements as Fenris did his best to rock into the hand that gripped him and Solas’ other hand gripped his hip to grind his cock against his lower back.

“Ugh!...” Fenris cried out, head falling back against his shoulder once again as their lips parted and they rutted together. The heat was searing, pleasure singing through every vein and he knew it wasn’t going to last. Solas grunted, hand twisting beautifully at the end of each stoke and Fenris’ back arched as much as his body would allow him as he came into the water around them. Solas’ hand stroked him through it as he rutted faster into his back, grinding hard as his teeth sank into Fenris’ shoulder with a shaky moan as he came.

They lay there for a while, panting into the darkness, until the water cooled and couldn’t wait any longer.

\----------------------------------------------------------

A pale hand lifting the entrance to the tent, and Fenris hissed as the red dawning light assaulted his senses, pain spiking through his temples. He heard a chuckle as he shoved his face further into the comfort of the threadbare pillow he had in a grip, groaning his displeasure into it.

“Come now, you cannot sleep all morning. We depart in an hour.” Fenris turned his head, glaring out from the embrace of the pillow with one exposed eye. Solas chuckled and set down a small bundle of cloth he had been carrying, before approaching and crawling toward him on the wide cot. He flopped down beside him, his weight balanced on one elbow.

Fenris scowled and turning away to avoid the older man’s inquisitive gaze, only to find an arm wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. Solas’ chin came to rest in the crook of his neck, hot breath caressing the skin there.

“You aren’t allowed to run off, until you have eaten. You are recovering. You will need the nourishment.” Fenris grumbled and squirmed a moment, before the other elf sighed regretfully and released him. Fenris rolled over, placing his feet carefully on the ground. They still felt strange and heavy, the kind of numbness he had felt before when he had lay upon a limb too long. He flexed his toes, rolling his ankles and wincing as they cracked loudly. He pulled on a simple white linen shirt, that was much too large for him, over the basic leggings made of a soft cloth that he had been redressed in the night before. They had been easier to redress him in than sticky leather.

He rose on to slightly unsteady feet, but found himself more stable than he anticipated. He turned to see Sola sitting cross legged upon the rough ground, munching steadily on a piece of bread from the bundle he had brought in, now unwrapped and spread out upon the floor. The elf gestured to the meagre spread, an array of breads, hard cheeses and dried meats.

“Eat.” He frowned a moment, before slowly moving towards the man and lowering himself slowly to the ground. He reached for a lump of the bread and placed some of the meat and cheese upon it, only now realising that he was ravenous. He tore into it eagerly, surprised by how soft and light the bread was. Travelling rations like these tended to be of the… rock hard variety.

“I see your mobility is returning well.” Solas tilted his head to the side as he looked at him, and Fenris hummed in response.

“It has returned enough. I won’t need your... “ He frowned, “ _assistance_ any longer.” He cast his eyes down, avoiding the dread wolf’s gaze. “You do not need to _pity me_ anymore.”

Fenris scowled, staring down at the dirt beneath his toes which had suddenly become so interesting. Solas narrowed his eyes at him and one hand found chin to force his head gently up.

“I could have handed you over to the healers, or to Abelas, or to anyone really once I had ensured your continued survive, Fenris”. Fenris pulled his chin from the man’s grip and scowled.

“I did not. Not because I _pity_ you…” He dropped his hand, his gaze locked on his, “You were a slave. Not just a slave… but one who could not remember a life _before._ You walked a path of sorrow, what should have been… your Din’anshiral. Your path of death, if not in body then in spirit.” He leaned forward, and clasped Fenris’ wrist, turning his inner wrist towards him as he traced the lyrium embedded there.

“Slavery, this, would have been the end for any normal elf… but you are not ordinary. I expected you to be… broken, when I heard of a lyrium branded, ex-slave of Tevinter.” He shook his head. “But you are not. You are… quick to anger, I admit, but never without cause.” He chuckled and brought Fenris’ wrist to his lips. “You bear pain, and lose much greater than many could even imagine, yet you are not broken. You walked your Din’anshiral and lived, not just survived. You are ...extraordinary. I did not… _assist_ you out of pity. In _any_ way, Da’Fen.” He placed a gentle kiss upon his wrist. Fenris mouth opened, but no sound came out. He just… stared.

“Fen’harel, may I speak with you?” A voice interrupted a second before a hand descended on the entrance to the tent. Fenris’ eyes widened and he yanked his hand back from the other elf’s gentle grasp, lyrium lines pulsing faintly at the contact. Solas’ eyes snapped to the entrance of the tent, as a scout’s head poked through the entrance. The scouts eyes widened slightly as he stuttered out an apology.

“My apologies, Fen’Harel, I did not know you were in a meeting…” Fenris scowled and pulled away, breakfast abandoned on the cloth spread out in front of him as he rose.

“No. We were done here.” Fenris clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering anywhere but the other man who still sat upon the ground with his gazed locked on him. Fenris grabbed his sword and pushed the flustered scout out of the way to leave.

“I expect you to _report_ back soon, Fenris.”

  
With that… he ran.

\------------------------------------------

_You are a Fool,_ Fenris thought.

Was he really that foolish, to bed the Dread Wolf? The trickster of elvish legend, the so called _God_ known for lies and deceit. The man wanted something from him. No one in this world gave anything for free, except for… Hawke. Hawke had been kind, and good. Hawke had loved him and expected nothing from him in return. He was why he was here in the first place, he shouldn’t have given in. He had… given up, without even realising it.

He stalked through the halls of the fortress aimlessly, his thoughts squirming inside his skull like maggots. He was only allowed here because he was necessary to the elf’s plans, he treated him well to keep him here. What had happened, what he offered… it was all an elaborate trick to chase out any thoughts he might have of leaving. Any conscience he might have suddenly gained that might have told him it was wrong to burn this world asunder, in the selfish hope of finding his lost love. Maybe he thought he could _replace_ Hawke? Gain his loyalty that way, did he think he was that _easy_?

Yet… he had been kind. Kind like Hawke. _Good_ like Hawke. He had saved him pain, and called him extraordinary…. He shook his head, and clenched his teeth to the point of pain. Lies. No one swallows a lie without complaint, unless it tastes sweet. He sighed, regret and indecision pooling low in his gut and his chest felt tight with panic. Not for the first time.

He let out a quick huff of air and turned abruptly. It had been four days since they returned to the fortress, and even longer since he had started avoiding the man. The same thoughts whirled around his head every day he rose with the dawn, and today would end be no different than the rest.

He headed in the direction of his room, fists clenched in frustration. He would rest. The thoughts wouldn’t be gone in the morning, but slumber at least gave him some respite from the gnawing feeling in his gut that told him he was being cornered.

* * * *

“You’ve been avoiding me, Fenris.” Hot breath caressed his ear and an involuntary shiver slivered down his body. Fenris’ head whipped around to look over his shoulder, and saw nothing. His brow furrowed as he scanned the meadow around him, finding nothing but thick towering tree trunks casting shadows over the expanse of green littered with wildflowers. A sharp crack of wood sounded off to the side, and as he glared in that direction as the shadows cast by the trees seemed to grow longer, twisting and turning in an unnatural dance. He stared, mesmerised as the shadows twisted into scenes and shaped before his eyes, until a low growl sent fear pulsing through his veins like syrup and a sense of dread filled him.

He looked up slowly, staring into deep blue eyes past a massive dark muzzle, with just a hint of the deadly white teeth that lurked behind it’s panting maw. Fenris’ eyes widened as he scrambled backwards, palms pushing frantically against damp grass in his futile efforts to put distance between him and the beast. It growled again, a warning sound as its muscles bunched and it crouched low.

The impact took the breath out of Fenris, adrenaline pulsing like syrup through his veins and his heart pumped wildly in his chest as his back collided with the ground with a thud. The snarling jaws leaned closed, eyes locked to his, until the fur and flesh peeled away, falling in chunks like wet paper that never met the floor.

“Fasta Vass! Festis bei umo canavarum, Somniari!” The last word came out full of heated malice as his cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as he recognised the smug face above him, clad only in tight green leggings. Fenris’ head fell back with a thump as he panted in relief as the fear left his body tense and shaking. The toned elven form now on top of him chuckled lightly, one leg slipping between Fenris’ own, as he descended upon him. His lips were so close now that his breath tickled his face and his bare chest pressed flush against his own.

“I would not have to infiltrate your mind as you slumber, if you hadn’t made me da’len.” That infuriating smirk was back, lips curling just so to reveal teeth. The expression was far more reminiscent of the predator he was, than the elf he appeared to be. Fenris scowled and squirmed uselessly against the body pinning him, only managing to squirm harder against the thigh between his legs and he flushed with colour again as unwelcome heat stirred in him.

“Let. Me. Up. Mage!” He growled, pushing at his bared shoulders but he barely budged, the man seemly as difficult to move as a boulder. He tutted, tucking his head down into the crock of Fenris’ neck as he squirmed, and nibbled at the exposed skin there. Fenris’ growl stuttered, a pathetic gasp sneaking from his throat before he could supress it. Solas’ hands pinned his shoulders gentle to the ground as he worked, licking and nibbling along as jaw to his ear, leaving Fenris a panting writhing mess on the forest floor. Solas pulled away smirking, and pressed his lips to his, chaste but lingering.

“Don’t make me come looking for you again, Da’len. Sa’Vunin… You have one day to come to me,” he cocked his head to this side and smiled wickedly, “before I come for you.” He chuckled and suddenly he was gone, leaving a frustrated Fenris sprawled upon the ground. Fenris let his head thump to ground and snarled, one hand pounding into the ground before him before the forest around him melted into the dark stone walls of his room as he woke.

\------------------------------------------

It… wasn’t like Solas to lie to him.

Fenris was never going to go to him. It wasn’t in him to cow down to a command, to give in to the other man’s trickery, even if a small traitorous part of him wanted to. He would not seek out the Dread Wolf, so he fully expected the Dread Wolf to seek him out instead.

Fenris was sure the man would be furious, not used to having his demands ignored. He expected him to burst into his rooms after the day was up, show his true colours, and Fenris had prepared himself for a confrontation. To turn him away and cast him from his room, to tell him never to try to trick him again.

That is what he expected when his day was up. He was out of time… three days ago.

Three days since he expected him to come to him, three days since anyone had last seen him. He had not accosted him in the fade, not sent for him or sent a messenger… nothing. When Fenris casually listened for his whereabouts, he heard different things some of them more preposterous than anything else.

Perhaps, Fenris thought, he had taken the hint. Taken his refusal to come to him as a sign that he was no longer wanted, and forgotten all about him. He fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought.

That was what he wanted. He wanted the man to leave him alone, and he got it… so why was we he here. Why was his gut telling him something wasn’t right.

He flexed his jaw, and hesitated before the large wooden archway that lead to Abela’s office. The archway was tall and wide, baring the contents of the room to all who wished to see it. Papers sat on desks scattered around the room, neatly piled and organised. The room was bare of any unnecessary furnishings, and a small cot lay tucked in the corner behind a semi-transparent screen which looked hard and uncomfortable. Trust the stern-faced elf to choose to sleep on a bed like that when he could demand anything he wished of the Dread Wolf, as his top agent.

Fenris frowned, and pitied the man. He knew very well why he chose that. The man had been a slave as well, to the mage ‘Goddess’ Mythal. He knew the compulsion to live like this, the instinctual feeling that you did not deserve better… it was a difficult one to supress.

“Fenris.” Abelas stood, hunched over a desk covered in papers and maps that was in disarray. Strange, considering the man’s almost compulsive tendency for organisation. He looked… tired.

Fenris’ brow furrowed in concern. Abelas’ face was set in a grim frown, his clothing was rumpled and his gaze felt… desperate. Fenris strode forward towards the man, concern welling up in him unbidden.

“Something is wrong.” It wasn’t a question.

Abelas cast his eyes down and nodded seriously, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he looked down at the papers below him.

“We received a letter. A small company of our spies were sent out just after out return from the Temple of the Harallan’Mi. The trip was not meant to take long, a few days at most. None of them have returned.” Fenris frowned at this, and looked at him questioningly.

“Unfortunate, but that isn’t the only problem, is it? Scouts go missing all the time in war.” Abelas nodded again, and started to pace in agitation.

“It is not. The spies were being dispatched through an eluvian… the eluvian at Tarasyl’an Te’las.” Fenris cocked an eyebrow questioningly, the other man knew well he did not know the language. Abelas pointed to the map spread upon the table between them.

“The Skyhold eluvian. The Inquisitor was… dying. The anchor within her hand was killing her. Fen’harel removed her arm, slowed the process. He could not stop it completely however, she still fades. He gave her as much time as he could.” Fenris frowned, before realisation dawned on him.

“He went to see her…” Fenris’ eyes widened, he had disappeared visiting his love. His inquisitor. He knew of her, it was common knowledge whispered among the men and women of the fortress. There were rumours he still loved her, still visited her. Fenris shook off a stab of hurt, and stared at the map. He hadn’t thought they were true. The visiting part, at least.

“He did. I received a letter… he and the rest of the company have been taken. They wish to ransom back the scouts for information and coin.” Abelas pointed once again to the map, where a small circle had been placed in black ink east of Skyhold.

“It seems the fanatics have spies within the Inquisition as well. Our only saving grace is they have not yet realised who he is.” Fenris eyes widened.

The Son’s of Elgar’nan had the Dread Wolf.

\--------------------------------------


	5. Fragile

“Penshra…” Abelas whispered, and gestured to the small group of elven men and women, “ghilas vellathan.” The dalish woman in front of Fenris gestured, and whispered to him.

“He says to stay close.” Fenris nodded, taking tentative steps along the passageway. They were deep within an intricate cave system, dark and winding corridors making it impossible to navigate without magic. It was possible enemy mages might sense it, but without it we would be in a much more risky position. They crept along, footsteps as silent as they could manage and flinching at every shadow. This was undoubtedly a trap, but their options were limited. No doubt they wished to capture more of Solas’ men for information, rather than bargain their release.

The minutes ticked by slowly as they descended deeper into the caves. The sound of running water echoed from somewhere, and the sound of scuttling little feet sounded ominously throughout the place. They dared not bring fire, for fear the light would alert the inhabitants of the cave of their presence before they wanted them to know. Their path flickered with the dull blues and greens of spell wisps that provided barely enough light to make out the ground beneath their feet, never mind what was ahead of them. Eventually the party slowed as they reached a fork in the passageway. Abelas held up a hand to stop them, and the spell wisps where extinguished quickly. The paths ahead were illuminated by the flickering of torches on the walls, and the dull murmur of Ferelden voices could be heard ahead. Somewhere to the left… the gurgling screams of dying men deeper down. Fenris felt his blood pump faster at what that might mean.

“Fenris, take Kariel. The rest with me.” He whispered, pointing for Fenris to go down the left passageway. Kariel, the dalish woman from before, gave him a brief smile and gestured for him to move ahead. She was a skilled archer, they had worked well together before. She would provide cover from behind.

Their plan was a simple one. Abelas would take the larger party, and provide the distraction. Speak with the Sons of Elgar’nan, barter for their people. Fight them long enough to give Fenris time, if need be. Their priority was to get Solas out, before they discovered just who they had in their midst.

Fenris prowled forward, slowly and quietly. Ariel was like his shadow behind him, rarely seen and never heard. She hugged the shadows as much as possible, only allowing Fenris a glimpse every now and again to let him know she was still there, or alert him to something.

“Don’t be an arse, Bernie.” A rough voice erupted suddenly from a side passage they had been approaching, and two shadows alerted them just in time before two elven men emerged. Fenris sank back, hugging the walls as the men turned down the corridor to walk away from them.

“How am I the arse? He’s the one that stole my nug! I was gonna make me a nice stew with that.” The men were armed with cheap longswords, and clothed only in raggedy armour in need of repair. Fenris gestured to Kariel before creeping forward slowly, he crouched low and silently removed a dagger from its sheath as he crept forward.

“Yeah he took your nug, mate. He doesn’t serve the carcass in his bedclothes for it though!” The fatter man grumbled as his friend laughed. It was the last sound he would ever make. Kariel loosed her arrow, piercing right through the larger man’s grumbling throat. Muffled gurgles sounded from his throat, as blood spilled down his neck and out his gaping mouth. His friend’s eyes widened and he stared in shock for just a moment, which was all Fenris needed. He lunged towards the elf’s back, lifting his arm to slice the dagger cleaning across the man’s throat, silencing him.

Kariel came forward and lifted the man she had shot, who still twitched and convulsed upon the ground as his friend fell to the floor, clutching at his throat. Fenris lifted him before he was even fully dead, hands sliding under the man’s armpits to heave him back into the more shadowed parts of the corridor.

The screams grew louder as the got further in, but more sporadic and exhausted. The screams weren’t the only sounds now, moans could be heard from all directions and begging pleas punctured the air. They crept forward, avoiding passageways where they heard men joking and laughing, and peaking cautiously into corridors that held cells with whimpering pitiful forms curled into corners. They entered another corridor, which opened into a larger cavern. Cells lined the walls on either side, stinking of human filth and the iron tang of blood.

“I can’t tell you anything more, I’ve told you all I know.” A rough voice sounded from the side, and Fenris turned sharply, one hand on the broadsword at his back. A dwarf lay almost naked save for a filthy pair of smallclothes. His head had been shaved and his dark beard had been ripped away in chunks, leaving a bloody and patchy mess. He lay facing the wall, away from Fenris, and Fenris’ eyes widened at the mess of the man’s back.

Large chunks of flesh had been carved away expertly, baring bone and flesh below. There was barely a shred of the man’s back that wasn’t raw and bare, with reeking puss oozing from the bared flesh and maggots crawling along the edges.

“Identify yourself.” It was Kariel who spoke first, bow ready though it was obvious she wouldn’t need it for this man. Whoever this man was, he was in no shape to stop them.

The man turned onto his stomach and crawled around, turning his face to them. His face was a mess of mottled purples and yellows, his nose askew at an odd angle and his lips were cracked and dry. The dwarf’s face screwed up in pain as he moved and shifted the raw flesh of his back, but his eyes opened wide when he looked at the elf woman.

“Kariel?” He gasped in pain as he tried to push himself up, but failed and fell to the ground once more. The elf woman gasped and rushed forward, working quickly at the lock of the cell. Fenris took his hand off his broadsword, and cocked an eyebrow at the woman.

“Ophrir. We worked together on a few scouting expeditions before… he’s one of ours.” Fenris scowled and ran a hand across his jaw as he let out a growl.

 _Look at the state of the man. If that’s what they did to him, what will they do to **him** if they have discovered who he is?_ Fenris scowled and clenched his jaw as the cell door swung open and Kariel rushed to the dwarfs side. Why did he care? As long as he Dread Wolf came back alive, that was all he needed. Kariel’s brow furrowed, her jaw clenched as she observed his back.

“It’s alright, we can get you out of here, Ophrir…” Fenris winced, and opened his mouth to remind her that they couldn’t. He didn’t need to, the dwarf sighed and let out a pained chuckle.

“No, Doll, you can’t. You and I both know you didn’t come here to get survivors, and I’m done anyway.” Kariel shook her head, breathing faster as she scrambled for words.

“No, it’s not that bad… ok no, It’s bad, but we can get you out of here to the healers. Magic can fix this…” Her hand hovered over his bare flesh, as if she wanted to touch and will it away. He reached out to her, and grasped one of her wandering hands.

“No. My back isn’t what’s killing me, Doll. I didn’t crack easy… and I’m ashamed to say I cracked at all. The others didn’t get it nearly as bad, just got beat around a bit, but I wouldn’t give them what they wanted…” He smiled sadly, “They’ve poisoned me. A slow poison, so that I’ll suffer more. I took one of their men when they captured me, see… apparently they liked that guy quite a bit.” He clutched her hand and smiled at her sadly. Kariel’s eyes widened, and she began to shake her head frantically.

“You have to, Doll. You know what you need to do. Please… they were talking about setting raw lyrium on my back, Kar. You can’t let them do that to me.” She sniffed hard, tears escaping her eyes before she could supress them. She nodded slowly, and pulled a sharp serrated knife from a sheath at her hip.

“I’m sorry, Ophrir.” He nodded.

“I know, Doll. Thank you. You’ll find the rest of them down the hall… they’re still in… the chambers. Some of them might still be able to walk enough to follow you out.” Fenris winced as Kariel brought the blade cleanly across the man’s throat as she thanked him. She stood and whipped the blade clean on her leggings before sheathing it again. She turned to Fenris, and strode past him to the entrance, her head down and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Are you coming?” She asked, her voice shaky as she sniffed. He walked forward towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He could have said more, could have told her It was not her fault. That she had saved him a slow death. He knew more than most that she wouldn’t want to hear it.

She looked at him with wet eyes and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

\----------------------------------------

“Now now, do we really have to do this again?” A smooth voice, Tevinter, sounded through the corridor. Fenris growled softly as he felt magic, dark magic, slithered through the air like tendrils licking along his skin.

He crept forward along the hallway, cold seeping into his veins from the stone surrounding him. The air was so thick with the smell of metal, he could almost taste it. He held his hand out, gesturing to Kariel and the survivors they hand found to stop. He crept forward, wincing as his brands flared to life with each wave of power that touched his flesh, a dull pain throbbing like the cresting waves of the ocean.

“Open. Your. _Eyes._ ” The Tevinter man hissed, patience wearing thin with his prisoner already. There was a pained hiss, pushed between clenched teeth, and he winced as the unique taint of blood magic washed over him, brands stinging furiously. It made him feel filthy, like he wanted to scrub his flesh till it was red and raw. He reached the door, which was open a crack to reveal a brightly lit room. A fire blazed in a pit to the side of the room, but it was not meant for cooking. An array of metal brands lay across the pit on a rack, tips of varying shapes and sizes burning red hot over the flames. A pit had been chiselled from the stone on the far side of the room, and blood stains had spread like spider webs across the uneven ground to fall away into it.

He placed a palm gently upon the door and pushed slowly, wincing at a slight whine of the hinges, but that was not what made him freeze. It was what he saw. Solas’ eyes opened slowly as Fenris watched, to stare at the mage in front of him. His chest heaved slightly, his position obviously strenuous and making it difficult to breath. His armour and undershirt had been removed and his arms had been pulled back and upward slightly, not enough to break them but enough for the strain to be painful at least. They were strapped tightly, too tightly, to rough splintered wood and blood seeped slowly from small crusted wounds in his hands. His nose bleed, but was not broken, and his body was littered with cuts of varying sizes. Fenris felt his blood pump harder in his veins as he stared.

Solas snarled as the mage once again closed his fist, droplets of blood welling to the surface of the many cuts upon his body before bubbling and hissing as they were heated to boiling. The skin around the cuts blistered and puckered an angry red, and the mage leant forward, dragging the blade upon the tip of his staff along one sharp jaw bone, parting the flesh like one would peel away paper.

Fenris held back a snarl and pushed the door again, breathing out slowly and quietly as he willed himself to have patience, in case he would alert the mage to his presence. As much as he would have loved to make a Tevinter mage suffer today, he was in no mood to deal with a blood mage. Heat rose to his face as anger filled him like molten silver, jaw clenched as he opened the door just enough to slip through. He kept low, creeping along in the shadows as he was careful to remain behind the mage’s back.

“We have been informed your… _people_ are heading here to ransom you and your litte group. The ones who give us what we want, will live. Tell me, and you shall be allowed to return home as well.” The mage leaned in a stroked along the cut he had just made in mock tenderness, pressing a finger into the wound. Solas closed his eyes again, face the picture of calm defiance.

“Tell me about the Dread Wolf, _Soldier._ ’ He smirked, “We will find out his weaknesses, and you will be the one to tell me.” Fenris smirked as he took the last step, closing the distance between them and leaned forward to behind the mage’s ear.

“He does so hate to talk about himself.” Fenris shoved his hand forward, ghosting his fist as he shoved it forward. Flesh and bone shredded and parted easily before him, and the man’s eyes widened in horror as the Dread Wolf’s snapped open to lock with Fenris’. He clenched his hand around his heart slowly, the muscle collapsing like it was made of butter. He shoved the body to the side, wiping flesh and blood from his hand on rag on the ground. It wasn’t the first persons blood to soak that rag today.

Solas’ eyes widened at the sight of him, looking briefly down at the body on the ground as Fenris grabbed the staff the mage still clutched in his still warm fingers, and used the blade to saw through the tight restraints.

“What are you doing here?” Solas frowned, and Fenris scowled and stared at him with his face contorted into a half snarl.

“I would imagine that is fairly _obvious_ , **mage.”** He spat the last word out like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Solas shook his head and winced as one wrist snapped free, and Fenris moved on to the other.

“You should not have come.” He grabbed one of Fenris’ wrists, finger placed on the still pulsing lyrium there. Fenris yanked his hand away and glared at the restraint as he worked at it, unable to look the man in the eye without feeling an irresistible urge to punch him.

“Maybe _you_ should not have went to see your precious inquisitor, then I wouldn’t have had to.” Fenris growled, wincing internally at how bitter he sounded. He was not jealous, he was furious. For a ‘God’ who had lived for millennia, he really was hell bent on getting himself killed.

“You could have gotten yourself captured, or killed. They want you just as badly as they want me!” He winced as the blade nicked his skin as the strap snapped loose. He hissed as his abused shoulders rolled forward, and he scowled as he spat the words at him. Fenris lips twitched in angry.The man had no right to angry with _him_.

“What sort of idiotic ‘God’ gets taken so easily?” He shook his head, rubbing a hand roughly over his jaw as he took a step back and threw the staff at him. 

“Make yourself useful, at least.” Fenris turned, taking a step towards the door. A hand grasped his arm and he winced as the magic overloaded the sensation of touch to border on pain again.

“I _allowed_ them to take me. I needed to know...” He released him and winced, anger seeming to drain from him as quickly as it had come. Fenris turned and stared at him, one eyebrow cocked in irritation.

“Know what?” Fenris unclenched his jaw, a niggle of concern wiggling around in his head. He pushed it away. He needed anger right now. Solas stepped forward and raised a hand to cup his chin gently.

“It doesn’t matter… at least not yet. I didn’t expect the magebane…” He leaned forward, forehead bumping gently against his. Fenris’ lips parted In shock at the tenderness, exhaling slowly, skin alight with anticipation as the anger drained from him like falling water.

“Fenris?” A frantic whisper sounded from the corridor behind them, as Kariel peered in the door. Fenris felt his face flood with heat as he wrenched himself away from the man, before whipping around and seeing Kariel’s mouth hanging open slightly as she looked between the two.

“Oh… ah. Sorry. Bad timing I guess, but we have to get out of here. Now…” She looked behind her briefly as the others joined behind her, sighing in relief as they saw Solas unharmed.

“We can hear fighting. Abelas is out of time.” Solas nodded at that, and strode forward, gesturing to the source of the fighting. He looked surprisingly intimidating, for a half-naked man covered in sweat and blood.

“Let us go meet our hosts, then.” A slow predatory smirk spread across the Dread Wolf’s face.

At least killing some people might suppress the wriggling feeling in his gut, and the tightness in his chest that Fenris was having a hard time stomping out.

\----------------------------------------------------

“I did not _intend_ to be taken at Tarasyl’an Te’las, Abelas.” Solas scowled as he rolled his naked shoulders, as Fenris glared at him with gritted teeth.

“I intended to be taken in a more… controlled situation. The opportunity arose sooner than I had anticipated, the fact they assumed I was a simple agent made the experience it bit more pleasant than it would have been had I followed my original… plan.” He huffed and stalked across the room.

Solas’ bedroom was as he remembered it, sparsely decorated but what was there was opulent and plush. Comfortable.

Fenris clenched his jaw as the man sat upon the plush bed, smooth sheets rumpling beneath his weight as he hissed. Blood tricked slowly from re-opened wounds on his stomach as he shifted his weight onto one hand to find the most comfortable spot, before placing his other palm lightly to the skin there. Fenris felt a faint wave of healing magic ripple through the air, clean and refreshing, unlike the other magic that still made his skin crawl.

“You should have found a way to inform us, Fen’harel.” Abelas stood straight, jaw clenched in obvious frustration but habit causing him to pull back his irritation at the man. Fenris growled at his stoic face, if he would not do it then he would have to.

“What he means, is why did you feel the need to galivant off into danger like a fool without warning us?” Fenris growled, pacing quickly in front of the man. Abelas cocked an eyebrow at the insult, but stood silent with his hands clasped behind his back.

Solas frowned, and moved the hand to clasp and roll his shoulder as he pumped his magic into it.

“I could not. The magebane cut my connection to the fade enough to almost completely remove my magic. I maintained marginally more control than the other mages due to my… experience, but I maintained only a small amount of control over my magical abilities, and next to nothing of my abilities to walk the fade. A message was impossible.”

Abelas grimaced at Fenris’ growl, but his face remained stern.

“What did you need from them, that you would risk capture for the information? You could have destroyed our mission, Dread Wolf…The people need you.” Abelas frowned as a brief flicker of pain flashed across Solas’ features and he looked even more exhausted, if that were possible.

“Athim.” Solas’ eyes rose to catch Abelas’ as they widened. Abelas’ mouth opened slightly as he sucked in a breath and stared at him questioningly.

“I do not know.” Solas shook his head slowly, answering the sentinels unannounced question. His brow furrowed, “I will find out, however. That I swear.”

Fenris scowled, lips curling in disgust and rage as he felt a silent exchange between the two men.

“Must you always be so cryptic, mage?” Abelas shook his head at Fenris as he paced, and nodded to the elf upon the bed.

“If there is anything to be found… we will find it. That I will swear to you.” Abelas backed away before turning towards the door. Solas sat forward, hand clutching his half-healed forearm.

“I will discuss what little I learned with you and the others at dawn.” He called, but no reply sounded other than the clap of retreating footsteps on the stone floor and the thud of the door closing behind him.

Fenris continued to pace as the elf lapsed into silence, the pulse of magic in the air the only indication the man was still there. As the last of the major slashes melded together, he sat forward, his forearms resting upon his thighs as he watched Fenris with an infuriating expression of amusement on his face.

Fenris snarled at the man’s grin, lip curling back to show teeth.

“You think this is funny, mage?” Solas’ attempted to supress his smirk as he cocked an eyebrow. Fenris clenched his fists.

“Da’Fen…” Fenris hissed through clenched teeth at the man as he stared at him and his smirk faded, “Fenris.”

Fenris stopped his pacing but stared straight ahead of him, and down at the scuffed stone floor. Fenris clenched his jaw and eyes shut, pushing a fist into one socket almost painfully as he scowled.

“It needed to be done. I… am sorry I was unable to inform you. At least if I had told you it was my plan, you would have know when you heard I….” Solas’ eyes widened slightly Fenris spun, his face like thunder growing darker with each word the mage spoke.

“ _Told me?_ You think had you told me, I would have allowed you to continue with that plan? You could have been _killed_ …” He scowled at his own words, “and who would have pulled down your precious veil then? Who, then, would have raised your broken people from the gutter, where you put them!?” He snarled the words, saw hurt flare for just a moment in the other man’s face before it was concealed by a stoic mask honed by years of practise.

“You think you can save them when you throw yourself into danger at every moment?” He stalked closer to the mage as Solas stood from the bed with one hand held innocently out in front of him, as if to calm a beast. He snarled again, fist lashing forward and fingers curling round that delicate white throat. Solas’ breath caught in his throat but he did not push back, heat in his widened eyes as his lips parted and his head tilted instinctively back. Fenris’ eyes bored holes into his as he leaned closer.

“You think because you have lived for millennia that you cannot die?” He hissed, flexing the wrist that lay free at his side. One of Solas’ hands came up to clasp his forearm, where lyrium pulsed in agitation with his raging heartbeat.

“Well you are wrong. Just like he was wrong.” Fenris hissed, lips ghosting over his as he shoved his free hand forward, ghosting his hand into the mages chest.

“You. Are… _”_ Solas panted in shock, eyes briefly casting down to get a glimpse of the lyrium lined forearm sliding smoothly into his chest to lightly grip his heart as he yanked him forward to crush him against his chest, _“Fragile.”_

Fenris’ lips crushed his, his mouth open and pliant in shock. Fenris felt the heartbeat flutter against his fingers, the man frozen for a moment before the hands that grasped his forearms moved to pull his shoulders to him. The man’s bare chest pressed flush against the hard, dark metal of Fenris’ armour. The metal spikes nicked the man’s pale, bare flesh as he pushed harder but he did not seem to care, if he even noticed.

A greedy tongue pressed insistently into his mouth, hot and demanding as it danced with his own. Fenris heard the quick snap of the straps holding his armour together as their tongues warred for dominance, and piece by piece it fell away to clatter on the floor, utterly forgotten as he panted into the mages mouth. Solas panted, chin touching his as he chuckled and tilted his head back.

“If you wish to continue, I’m afraid you’ll need that hand.” One pale, staff calloused hand gently wrapped around his occupied wrist again before pausing. Solas looked down through his lashes at him as he breathed hard and waited.

Fenris clenched his jaw, savouring the feeling of that fluttering heartbeat for just a moment before he wrenched his ghosted hand from his chest, removing the gauntlet in one swift motion before dropping it with a clatter to the floor.

Solas smirked wickedly, lips falling back to his own as he pushed on the lyrium lined elf’s now leather clad chest, panting until the backs of Fenris’ knees hit the bed and he fell back onto it. He straddle Fenris’ hips, fingers tugging the leather of his undershirt up his chest. He licked his lips at every strip of revealed flesh and he looked up with an infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk.

“It seems I didn’t need to come for you after all, Ma Da’Tarasyl'nin.” He smirked, as his lips descended on his once more.

\-----------------------------------------

Fenris’ mouth fell open in a needy moan as teeth and lips descended on his throat, nipping and sucking a steady trail down to his collarbone. His teeth buried into his lower lip to supress the growl that was trying to slip from his throat as his nostrils flared, hands grasping at the smooth skin of Solas’ head and a firm thigh pressed between his legs.

Solas smirked as he crouched above him and pulled away a moment, admiring the blood vessels underneath his skin that blossomed a beautiful shade of red under his ministrations, blotting his skin like paint on a canvas.

Fenris’ nails slid to Solas’ shoulders as he licked a slow trail down to the pool of his collarbone, hot tongue trailing over the lyrium there, slowly lapping at his skin like he would one of his frilly little cakes as Fenris’ hips shifted impatiently.

He jerked and his eyes widened, back arching into the touch as the mage trailed fingers of ice down the bumps of his rib cage, seeming to catch every sensitive nerve and the lingering magic causing his markings to pulsate and his skin to quiver. The mage hummed into the column of his throat as power whispering along his lips, his hands settling on the other elf’s hips as he chuckled.

“I admit…” Solas’ murmured as he trailed further down his chest, lips ghosting over his skin making him shiver in anticipation, “I didn’t expect you to taste this… exquisite.” Fenris licked his lips and panted, nails digging hard into the flesh of his scarred shoulders as he mustered a scowl. The thigh between his legs shifted down as he kneeled on the floor and pulled Fenris’ hips forward to the edge of the bed, and lithe fingers tugged insistently at the lacing of his breaches.

“I am not a _dog treat_ , Mage.” He panted, raising up slightly and propping himself on both elbows to watch the man, the low growl under his breathe having nothing to do with anger as his fingers lightly brushed what strained beneath the leather.

Solas chucked as the last laces pulled free and he smirked, leaning up to press a brief kiss to his lips, chaste in comparison to what they had before. He tasted of lyrium and mint, sweet and intoxicating. He smirked as he returned to his task, swiftly peeling the freed leather down to slip past his hips and off, before launching them haphazardly to the floor across the room.

“No, you are not.” His lips curved at the side for just a moment, and that was all the warning he got, before he was enveloped in glorious wet heat. Fenris let out a yell, falling back onto the plush sheets, fists clenching in the silky material. His back arched, hips raising instinctively before he was gently pushed down by an insistent palm that splayed across his hip.

Fenris panted, letting out a growl as that dextrous tongue danced along his aching cock. Solas’ eyes flicked up to catch his as he looked up through his lashes, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes as he raised the other hand to firmly clasp the meat of his thigh… and sink forward, taking him deep in his throat as he hummed.

The effect was instantaneous, Fenris’ back arched as he threw a fist up from the sheets to his mouth, teeth clenching firmly into the flesh there until he tasted blood. He jerked forward, free hand pushing his head reluctantly back as he growled. The mage’s mouth reluctantly released him, slipping free with an obscene pop. He licked his lips and pouted up at him.

“Enough, Mage.” Fenris panted, releasing the flesh of his palm with a wince and used the other to cup the back of his neck and pull him forward for a searing kiss. Their tongues danced slowly, unhurried for a moment before Fenris leaned back and pulled him with him. He released his lips long enough to glace down and scowled.

“Off.” He tugged at Solas’ leggings, a frustrated noise erupting from his throat as he found the laces tightly tied. Solas sat up, eyes lingering along the lyrium lines on the other elf’s stomach as he quickly untied the laces, standing only briefly enough shed the offending garment.

He leaned back on the bed, elbow pressed into the sheets beside Fenris’ head as he leaned in to his lips. Fenris clasped his knees tightly around the mages hips and rolled, Solas frowned as he found himself underneath the elf. His hands settled on his hips and lightly traced the skin there, nail biting just so into the delicate flesh.

Solas hummed in appreciation as Fenris sat up, cock hard and leaking against his stomach as he admired the view. Fenris narrowed his eyes and squirmed as the elf lay idle too long, impatience driving him as he leaned forward just enough to bring them into contact. Fenris growled as he pressed down, grinding forward, only to be met by an answering groan.

Solas’ fingers tightened almost painfully on his hips as he pressed forward, grinding together. Solas leaned back and smirked, eager pink tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he watched. Fenris hips rolled forward rhythmically, hands coming to rest flat against Solas’ chest for leverage.

Their pace slowed as one of Solas’ hands slipped back, cupping and massaging each globe as the mages eyes slipped lower. Fenris’ pace faltered, breath coming faster as he paused.

Solas’ eyes slipped slowly back up his body and he licked his lips.

“I need to know exactly what you want here, Da’Fen.” Fenris froze, eyes narrowing and sighing in frustration.

“Now? You chose to do this now?” Solas smirked, one hand leaving his ass to gently, teasingly stroke his leaking cock. Fenris panted, hips shifting minutely as he growled at the man in frustration.

“I need you to feel safe with me. Tell me what you want, and you shall have it. Tell me to stop, and I shall.” Fenris frowned for a moment, something unidentifiable flashing across his features for a second before it was gone. He clasped the wrist that remained around his hip, and pulled it forward, before releasing it and presenting his hand palm up. Fenris caught his eye and held it.

“You know the spell.” Solas quirked an eyebrow and shifted his hips, hissing as his neglected cock ground against the man’s thighs. Solas removed the hand on his hip, his fingers leaving possessive little indentations that he couldn’t help but be pleased to see. He placed his fingertips to Fenris’ palm, and Fenris shifted eagerly as his palm and fingers filled slowly with a slippery liquid, drawing another groan from the elf below him. Fenris pulls his hand away, reaching behind him but found his wrist caught gently and a pair of serious eyes staring into his.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Fenris pulled his wrist free of the gentle hold and nodded minutely, licking his lips as he found himself unable to look away. The hand on his cock resumed as the first finger breached him. He panted, thankful for the many uses of a grease spell as the uncomfortable intrusion melded into a soft pleasure.

He pressed in another and squirmed as the hand on his cock faltered, Solas’ eyes now locked on the movement of his fingers pumping between his legs. Fenris’ eyes fell half closed, lost in the slow pleasant burn and the hand working in front of him.

When he pressed in the third, he huffed out a breath through his nose at the stretch and he winced. Solas growled, one idle hand batting his out of the way and Fenris scowled for a moment, opening his mouth to protest but the only sound that came from his lips was a sharp cry as slim, dextrous digits replaced his own and curled in just the right way to have him moan like a blooming rose whore. Fenris whimpered and rocked for a moment, before reaching behind to remove the hand with another obscene noise. Fenris shifting, batting the hand away from his cock and raised himself up slightly as Solas’ hand grasped his own cock, positioning himself at his entrance. Fenris placed one hand on the firm thigh behind him, and averted his eyes as he panted with the effort. His muscles quivered as he lowered himself, his eyelids fluttering shut as both men let out a simultaneous moan.

Fenris sank down slowly, initial discomfort mixed with a building pressure. Solas’ eyes were clenched shut as he breathed, hands now on his hips once again.

When he was fully seated, they paused and panted for a moment, the sounds of their breath and the blood thundering in their ears the only sound in the room for a moment.

Fenris began to shift minutely, inpatient, and Solas fingers flexed on his hip as he clenched his jaw tightly, slipping control obvious on his face. Fenris rolled his hips experimentally, and panted as pleasure shot through him, discomfort slowly slipping away forgotten with each slow roll of his hips.

Solas growled, a low rumbling sound as he opened his eyes to stare at Fenris’ face before he surged to sit upwards, one hand encircling him to rest flat between his shoulder blades, while the other rested on his lower back, pulling the elf tight against him as he began to ground forward.

Solas lips found Fenris’ again, teeth nipping forcefully against his as they rutted together, all panting breath and sweat slicked skin. Solas growled in frustration, before pulling out, causing Fenris to scowl and moan in frustration at the loss.

He rolled them, pinning the panting lyrium lined form to the sheets below. Fenris swore and let out a moaning yell as Solas seated himself fully again in one swift thrust, flesh slapping obscenely as he set a punishing pace.

Fenris bit down hard on his lip, flesh breaking under his teeth, as he gasped at the onslaught. Solas hands gripped his hips, pulling him in to meet each battering thrust. Fenris panted quickly, back arching as the delicious friction on his cock between their bodies became too much. Fenris nails dug into Solas ass, nails dragging deep welts into the tender flesh as he whimpered, mouth falling open as he spilled between their bodied, mouth open in a silent cry.

Solas panted into his neck, hissing as the body tightened around him, before pushing the other man’s knee towards his chest. The angle deepened his thrusts, and Fenris let out a whimper at the oversensitivity, his other leg wrapping around Solas’ waist for leverage.

Solas moaned, teeth burying deep into Fenris neck as he came, hips pressed tightly together. They panted deeply, the moments ticking by slowly as their heart beat slowed and the sweat cooled to their sticky skins.

Solas moved first, and Fenris winced as he pulled gently out and rolled to the side. Solas shifted, arm moving to pull the other elf close to his chest. Fenris hesitated and paused, pulling away, averting his gaze as he rolled to leave. Solas reached his hand out, grasping the elf’s forearm.

“Stay.” Fenris stared at him a moment, before pulling his arm reluctantly from his grasp.

“Just until dawn, when the guard changes.” Fenris scoffed and looked down at himself, still sweat slicked and covered in their spend. Solas chuckled at his disgust, leaning on his elbow to take in the delightful view.

“You don’t want to be seen leaving my chambers like that, do you?” Fenris glowered at him and lay down again, huffing like a petulant child. They righted themselves on the bed, and Fenris lay with his back to the mage, curled up defensively, a noticeable gap between the too.

Solas smirked but didn’t push it, he would try that next tine. He chanced trailing a finger along the marks he’d made on his neck.

He’d have trouble covering those up… and he couldn’t help be perversely happy about that.

\---------------------------------

Fenris huffed, burying his head further into the comfortable darkness and hummed in content as something warm and soft pressed to his jaw. He muttered his disapproval as a movement jostled him slightly, hands clutching desperately the crush the soft thing against his face as he hummed at the feeling of something soft tickling a caress along the length of his side.

“I’m afraid I am going to need my arm back, now…” Fenris made a confused, questioning noise before his eyes snapped open at the voice. Consciousness flooded back to him as he registered soft lips against his neck, the glaring light causing him to hiss as he raised his head. He glared into the chest in front of him as his eyes slowly adjusted, revealing a smug looking elf propped up on one elbow staring down at him.

Fenris brow furrowed in confusion, last dredges of sleep fuddling his thoughts as memories rushed back to him and his cheeks flushed. Fingers wriggled underneath him, as Solas smirked, and Fenris’ eyes widened. He jerked his hands away from the mage’s chest where he lay, shoving against the other elf’s firm chest and scrambled back on the bed.

Fenris’ limbs felt heavy and numb where they had lay crushed between their bodies, and he flexed them aggressively as a nervous shame bubbled in his chest and he cast his eyes down to the fabric pooled low at his waist.

“Fasta Vass!?...” Fenris scowled and uttered a low grunt of annoyance, head whirling to the window. The sun had risen past the horizon in the sky, morning birds still sang in the red tinted sky but it was at least a few hours past dawn. The guards would have already changed, and with them went his chance at an undetected exit.

He scowled deeper, hand reaching for the fabric that covered him, only to find his shoulders gently pressed back to the mattress behind him and those soft lips pressed once again to his own.

His eyes dropped for just a moment, tongues tangling for a just a moment before Fenris pulled away with a reluctant, forced growl and shoved at the mages shoulders weakly.

“Enough, fool mage. There are things to attend to.” He squirmed, licking his lips as he met an outline against his hip, growing more insistent with each roll of his wriggling hips. Solas pouted and licked down the lyrium lining his chin, slipping beneath his jaw to draw a reluctant shudder from Fenris as he lapped at the tender, broken flesh there apologetically.

“My duties have waited millennia, I am sure they can wait another half hour…” He hummed, shifting his body weight over him to one elbow as one hand slipped lower, fingers ghosting a trail down the tender flesh of his side to caress the bruises on his hips, just starting to darken, and below the soft sheet that barely covered them…

“No, I’m afraid they cannot. Your advisors have been waiting an hour already, Fen’harel.”

Fenris’ eyes snapped open and heat flooded his face, hands frozen where his nails bit lightly into the Dread Wolf’s bared chest. Solas sighed, eyebrow cocking as he tilted his head to the side, glaring at the man standing in the opened doorway. If Abelas was perturbed by the full wrath of the Dread Wolf’s gaze, he wasn’t showing it. His arms crossed tightly, one eyebrow cocked in annoyance with a slight smirk to his lips almost undetectable. An embarrassed squeak sounded behind him, as the familiar form of Banal’ras scurried away and fled down the hallway.

Fenris’ face radiated heat as he clenched his fingers into the flesh of the dread wolf’s shoulders, pushing him to the side frantically and pulled the sheet higher, not that the damage wasn’t already done. Solas didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest however, annoyance radiating from him at the intrusion. He sighed, pulling himself up to a sitting position so the sheet fell to expose the entire length of his torso and part of his hip as he stretched, muscles flexing and rippling underneath his skin at the movement. Fenris shuffled back, until his back hit the headboard and he pulled the sheet tighter around him, avoiding looking at the display. Fenris avoided the sentinels gaze as he stared at him, unblinking for a moment.

“Do not make me return again, Fen’harel. We will be in the war room… at your earliest convenience.” Fenris groaned loudly when he was gone, and pointedly ignored the smug smile on the dread wolf’s lips as he leaned over lips intent on claiming his again only have a palm shoved firmly to the side of his face by one very pissed off, embarrassed elf.


	6. Humility

“What… is this?” The scout, a lithe man with a think head of dark hair and a crooked nose, looked up to the tall ceiling with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Solas frowned warily and let his gaze wander over the carved walls. Depictions of wolves glared back it him, all slavering jaws and wicked teeth, and men and women bowing before a hooded man as lines were drawn from their faces. This seemed to be one of his own temples, a place for his followers and those he had freed, but he had never set eyes upon the place before.

The sound of rushing water echoed silently around them, coming from far below the ground and the smooth, worn stone was warm to the touch as if the place were alive. Remnants of magic echoed here, running thick through the walls like veins and carrying with it a dark pulse. The magic felt strong and ancient, like it lingered, clinging to existence through sheer will. It felt… desperate.

Solas placed his fingertips gentle to the stone, shivering at the feeling. There was ancient lyrium imbued within the walls, almost imperceptible unless you looked close enough. Thin tendrils spread over the surface of the stone, as thin as spider’s webs that glistened faintly in the light spilling from the tall crystal ceiling high above them. The lyrium felt odd, still very much alive as it spread magic through the place, but Solas could not help but sense the… desperation running through the place.

“This feels wrong, mage.” Fenris rumbled from behind him, his body shifting restlessly. Solas turned to where the other man followed, and frowned as the lyrium in his flesh pulsed weakly in agitation at the ambient magic in the air.

“If this place effects you—“ Solas began, taking a step closer before being cut off by a shake of Fenris’ head.

“It does. It is not… pain, exactly. It is like no magic I have ever encountered before.” Solas nodded slowly, and turned from him. He did not want Fenris here if this magic caused him pain, or worse.

“No.” Solas raised an eyebrow as Fenris answered his thoughts as he scowled, eyes narrowing.

“You will not pack me away like a delicate doll, again.” Solas frowned, taking another step towards him and stopped as something crunched beneath his feet. He looked down and winced, a pile of bones and dust all that remained of one of his people beneath his feet.

“Should they cause you pain…” Fenris scowled and chuckled bitterly, gesturing to the pulsing brands.

“They always do.” Solas shocked his head, expression softening as Fenris rolled his eyes and one of the scouts behind Fenris whispered something to his friend which caused Fenris’ face to colour and glared them into silence.

“I will be sure to inform you.” Solas nodded, for that was all he was likely to get out of the stubborn elf. He turned, gesturing to one hallway off to the side of the hall in which they stood. The two whispering scouts scurried off down the way he pointed, having the decency to at least look a little ashamed. He gestured for Fenris to follow him, before cautiously making his way through the hall to a small, inconspicuous hallway on the far side.

They had entered through an eluvian, a long dormant pathway through the crossroads that Abelas had gleamed the location of through whispers and rumour. This was not their first attempt, far from it. For this matter, he would rather take rumours and hearsay, than nothing at all.

This temple had no doors, and the only windows were made from crystal in varying colours. An ancient method of magical binding, that was now lost, made the glass virtually unbreakable. The eluvian had been the only method in or out. Upon creating the veil, this place would have been cut off. The eluvian would have locked, become dormant and disconnected from the crossroads. His people inside would have starved, died trapped and helpless, because of what he had done. He can only imagine their last moments.

No wonder the magic here was tainted, though a small sliver of hope remained, a light swell cresting through waves of sorrow.

They passed through corridors and small rooms, empty food stores and bed chambers mostly, each one littered with the bones of his people. Once proud and strong, now reduced to ash and bone beneath his feet.

His chest felt heavy as the magic caressed his skin, the last remnants of their existence. Solas swallowed hard, but kept his face tightly schooled. His people now could not see him falter, but his ever perceptive lyrium warrior seemed to know his every expression. He watched from the corner of his eye as the other elf frowned, his expression one of hidden concern.

“The bones…” Fenris’ brow furrowed as he kneeled in the middle of an empty pantry room, fingers running lightly over one small delicate bone he had plucked from the floor. A child’s, Solas realised. Fenris pointed to another set of remains, half propped and crumbling in the corner.

“Those bones are crumbling to dust. These are mostly intact.” Solas frowned, brow furrowing in confusion before his eyes widened in understanding. They stood, moving swiftly from room to room and found what they had expected. He regarded the bones of a child resting beside the crumbling bones of an adult, a kitchen knife lying close by.

“They sacrificed themselves first, to save the food for the children… they died later.” Solas lips parted, swallowing before he let out a shaky breath. This was his fault.

Fenris scowled, his hand coming to grasp his forearm for just a moment before dropping down to his side once again.

They continued solemnly through the corridors, every room like the last. The further they advanced into the place, the greater the magic became. The uneasy feeling grew heavier, weighing unpleasantly on their chests. The lyrium seemed to become stronger, the closer the got to its epicentre. The corpses slowly became soldiers, armoured skeletons with arms still in hand but there seemed to be no sign of confrontation. Each body lay propped against the walls, where the magic pulsed like syrup through the stone. It shone lightly now, now a shimmering web of red.

Solas touched the lyrium lightly again, but sensed no taint within it. It was not the red lyrium they knew before.

Fenris growled, a nervous shaky sound that erupted from his throat as he unsheathed his sword. The rooms off from the hall they walked through no longer held skeletons, but flesh. The first were rotted almost completely, small stringy strips of rancid flesh clinging to the bones and remnants of lavish clothing, blood stains still evident around them. Fenris turned to him, eyes wary.

“How did they survive? They should all have died millennia ago…” Solas approached the corpse, examining the cloth covered stone slab on which it lay. The slab was ornately carved, the carvings smoothed with age. He ran his fingers of the patterns and frowned.

“The people could enter Uthenera, the long sleep. We could sleep for millenia, untouched by age or hunger, fuelled and preserved by magic. They should not have been able to—“ Solas stopped, eyes widening minutely. Fenris scowled as he watched the mage rush to the wall, palm pressed firmly against it as he hissed, other palm running over his face.

“I should have known.” Fenris frowned, watching the mage as he paced from room to room, finding each room much the same as the last, the corpses become fresher each time. Fenris was growing agitated, finally he grabbed the mage abruptly by the arm and stopped him.

“Spit it out, mage!” Solas stopped, letting out a breath.

“When I erected the veil, the magic that fuelled my people left. Cities that were tied intrinsically to the fade crumbled, my people’s immortality faded. Uthenera required magic to preserve the body, magic that no longer existed in enough abundance. The lyrium within these walls provided enough, but only for a brief time.” He sneered, “The children and lower classes were left awake, to starve. The adults sacrificed themselves to leave their food for their children, and their willing sacrifice fuelled the lyrium. The upper classes took advantage of the sacrifice, their lives allowed their bodies to be preserved for longer.” Fenris frowned in confusion as Solas snarled.

“It is a form of blood magic, but not as you know it. On their deaths, their power and blood was absorbed and fuelled the lyrium. They did it willing. When they ran out… they started to sacrifice each other to preserve a few. The lyrium contains the essence of the sacrifices.” Fenris clenched his eyes shut and winced.

“That is why it feels like that?” He asked, and Solas nodded, gently brushing the back of Fenris’ hand with his fingertips. Fenris leaned in for a moment, eyes shut, and Solas breathed It in with downcast eyes. It was not often the stubborn warrior accepted any comfort. The remains of doomed children would do that, even to his hard shell.

“Fen’harel! Sir!” A yell sounded from down the hall, the way they had been heading. The scout from earlier appeared, chest heaving as he slid to a halt just outside the door. They jerked apart, Fenris’ unsheathing his sword at the scouts urgency and the scout shock his head wildly.

“You better come see this, sir!” The scout turned and fled, and they followed quickly behind. They followed the man through the winding hallways, until they came to a doorway where he stepped aside and pointed.

Upon a slab, like the one they had seen before, lay a woman. Her skin was placid, thin and sickly looking. A smattering of freckles lay across her nose and checks, and her body looked thin and frail. A mess of dark copper hair splayed against the pillow below her, a ornate blanket that looked hand made covered her bared body. She was surrounded by… trinkets. Jewellery, some pieces made of gold and some of simple carved wood, lay scattered around her… even children’s toys lay, nestled into the crooks of her arms that lay at her sides. It was obvious she was well loved.

Fenris frowned, confusion on his face as he looked at him with a question on his lips. It did not get past his lips however, syllables dying as he looked at his face.

Solas stared, mouth open in relief as tears ran freely down his face. He ran, arms grasping the woman’s shoulders as he pulled her body to him and laughed, cradling her to his chest as he pressed one palm to her forehead. He cradled her a moment, shocked silence in the room as he kissed her cheeks and forehead, his fingers carding through her hair affectionately as her eyes fluttered open slowly. Her eyes were misted, cloudy and unfocused for a long moment before she stared, a smile breaking onto her face as she kissed him back, throwing her arms around him as they embraced and sobbed.

“I thought you were dead!” She cried, clutching onto his neck. He chuckled sadly and clutched her closer. 

“Athim.” He breathed. He had so much he wished to say to her, but none of it would come. He just knew he never wanted to let her go again.

\---------------------------------------

Three weeks. Fenris scowled into his glass, glaring hatefully at the drop of red that had fallen to stain his tunic earlier. It had been three weeks, since they had entered that hateful place and brought that woman back with them. It had been the same amount of time, since Fenris had seen Solas.

Not that he hadn’t seen him, but what he had seen of the man wasn’t worthy of count. He had seen the man collecting food from the mess hall and rushing off again, or stalking through the halls without giving Fenris a second glance. He had not spoken to him, in the fade or the waking world, but then again, he wasn’t even sure the mage had been sleeping properly.

Whispers spread throughout the keep, rumours that the Dread Wolf’s ancient lover had resurfaced. Rumour that she was ill, the magic that had sustained her weak and sufficient to keep her alive, but only just. Rumour that the Dread Wolf clambered like a love-sick puppy to her bedside every waking moment, never leaving her side as she recovered.

Fenris took a long swig from the depleted wine glass. He certainly wasn’t wallowing, sitting at this desk in the dark corner of the mess hall. The sun had long ago set, the hall almost empty and illuminated by the faint flickering of dying candles. He had blatantly ignored all the whispers as he walked through the halls the past weeks, the terribly concealed looks as he walked past. Whispers that the dread wolf’s lyrium etched, mortal _mistress_ had been cast aside. Some looked at him with pity, others with disdain.

“Spending your time wisely, I see.” Fenris raised his head at the voice, breaking from his poisonous train of thought, and glared. Abelas loomed over him, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded him.

“What is it to you, how I spend my time?” Abelas shrugged, clasping the back to the chair opposite him and pulled it out before sliding into it. He grasped the decanter of wine and a cup, pouring the dark liquid into both their cups.

“Nothing. Our activities are at a near standstill while our lady recovers, however. I find myself with some… time.” Abelas raised the glass to his lips, regarding Fenris solemnly as he pushed the refilled glass towards him.

“So you impose your presence on me?” Abelas frowned as he watched him down a large quantity of the liquid quickly.

“Yes. You do not seem to be… enjoying the time off.” Fenris snorted, the sound coming out more defensive than he intended it to be.

“You are troubled. By Athim?” Fenris scowled, eyes narrowing at the man. He waved his hand dismissively as he drank.

“Why would I be troubled by her?” Abelas frowned then, leaning forward to rest his arms upon the table. He tilted his head curiously at him.

“Her presence has obviously changed your… dynamic. With him.” Fenris sneered, teeth clenched around the bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the cheap wine.

“There is no _dynamic_ to change.” Abelas cocked an eyebrow, one side of his mouth twitching upward.

“That is not what I saw. That is not what Kariel saw.” Fenris eyes jerked up and he snarled.

“Ah yes, Kariel. Shouldn’t you have better things to _do_ with her, in your free time, Sentinel? You have not exactly been discreet with her. Not as much as you think you have been.” Fenris chuckled darkly as the sentinel blinked, a slight colour raising to his cheeks as he shifted uncomfortably. The woman brought an uncharacteristic awkwardness out in the usually stoic man.

“She was… also concerned. She considers you a friend, Fenris.” Fenris let out a bitter laugh. Of course, the woman would put him up to this. They had become somewhat closer since their return from rescuing Solas months back, she was kind to him and a capable warrior. The sentinel was like putty in the woman’s hands ever since they had first started their _tryst._ Abelas shook his head at him, sighing.

“As do I.” Fenris’ scowl melted in a small frown as they sat in silence for a moment, before Fenris sighed in defeat, rubbing agitatedly at his forehead.

“Thank you for your…. concern. It is not need however.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the dense wood making his back ache. He wished nothing more than to avoid this topic of conversation. “It was… spontaneous. Nothing permanent.” The sentinel raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

“Of course.” He snarked, sarcasm dripping from every word. Fenris scowled again, but he couldn’t summon any heat behind it. His earlier… agitation, dripping away, leaving him oddly empty.

“Athim has recovered well, regained her strength… she should be able to leave the infirmary soon, she will be given her own private room then. I suggest you speak to her.” He paused, “He would like it, I think, if you spent some time with her.” Fenris frowned in confusion. Why he would want his new lover to meet him, Fenris could not comprehend. Perhaps he thought if Fenris were to like her, it would make getting rid of him easier. He had to admit, he was curious.

“Perhaps.” He took another deep drink as they sat in silence for a moment, Fenris staring contemplatively into the flickering candle between them, as they lapsed into a comfortable silence and drank long into the night.

\-----------------------------------------

Fenris hesitated. He didn’t know why he hesitated, she was just one woman.

He stared at the wood grain of the infirmary door in front of him, fingers twitching at his side in agitation. He had paid a serving boy to fetch him when he saw Solas leave, he was unsure why, but he wanted to meet her alone. He swallowed hard, before raising his fist to knock the door briefly. He waited for a time, before a soft voice called to him to enter.

This make shift infirmary was simple, but comfortable. An old food store, long and thin with bare walls and floor. The room had no windows, and had torches blazing in sconces along the walls. A ball of mage light hovered above a large double bed, it’s form shifting and pulsing to light the area further. There were other beds lining the walls beside her, but they were empty. The woman lay, propped up with large plush pillows, a book clasped between her hands. Her once sallow skin was flushed, rosy cheeks bringing out the smattering of freckles. She was clothed in a simple white night gown, tucked tightly under the thick bed covers. She looked up as he entered, her head tilting to the side as she smiled at him in greeting.

“Andaran atish’an. Ma melava halani, Falon?” She sat forward slowly, setting the book aside, eyebrows raised at him in question. His advance faltered at her words, an awkward panic slowly slithering through him. She was ancient, what if she did not speak the common tongue?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to stand at the bottom of the large bed. His hands clasped tightly behind his back, fingers fidgeting.

“My apologies, but I do not--” Her face bloomed, alight with understanding, and she laughed, cutting him off with a wave of her hand.

“Oh! Ir Abelas, I am sorry for assuming. I remembered your face, you helped me didn’t you?… I did not think a lyrium warrior would be of this time! I did not think the order survived, though your markings appear… different.” She smiled brightly at him, patting the sheets in front of her.

“Please, sit! May I know your name?” He looked from her to the bed, moving to gingerly perch upon the edge of the bed, his side pressed tightly to the board at the end of it.

“My name is… Fenris. You know something of my markings?” He frowned in confusion. Her smiled never faltered, though her eyes became sad for a moment and she nodded, smile causing her cheeks to dimple. She pushed a stray strand of bright red hair from her face. It had curled somewhat since he had last seen her, and looked healthy and vibrant now where it had looked dull and lifeless before. She was recovering well.

“Lyrium warriors. They are… were… the most distinguished of warriors. Only the great men, generals and war heroes, were sent there. It was not offered often, and it was accepted even less. Not everyone survived the process. They were… guardians, of sorts. Sworn to protect the people and our history.” Fenris’ brow furrowed and clenched his teeth. Solas had not bothered to mention this to him.

“I am no great man. I was a slave. These markings were forced upon me, by a _mage_. I crushed his heart.” He spat the words, hatred seeping into them more than he had intended. He did not come here to give the woman this impression of him, but thoughts of his former master still stirred an old anger in him. Stirred up an old pain. She seemed unafraid of his outburst however, and regarded him with sorrow in her eyes. Oddly, there was no pity as there usually was.

“It takes great courage to break chains.” Fenris regarded her in silence for a moment. He opened his mouth, unsure of how to reply but he didn’t need to. The door swung open, banging lightly against the wall.

“I brought you some of the sweet pastries you said you li—” He stopped, seeing Fenris head swivel round to regard him. Fenris’ cheeks heating slightly as he realised he’d been caught.

“Fenris… I did not expect you here. Athim…” She smiled brightly again, eyes latching onto the food he carried, carefully balanced on both his arms. She thrust out both her hands in their direction and cooed in delight like a child at her name day celebrations. Solas smiled warmly, the smile meeting his eyes. He looked happier than Fenris had ever seen him before. The knowledge that he should be happy for the man batted with the bitter feeling in his gut.

“Fenris is a friend of yours, yes? He should eat with us!” Athim grasped a flaky, buttery pastry from one of the plates as he brought it forward. He laughed as she ate with vigour, face covered in a thin layer of butter. He sat on the edge of the bed, on the opposite side to Fenris, and leaned forward to tuck a stray hair behind her ear affectionately. Fenris averted his eyes at the display.

“Fenris is my… agent. A trusted ally. With my foci destroyed, I can use the lyrium as a substitute.” He turned to Fenris, “You may of course stay and eat—” Fenris clenched his jaw and stood abruptly.

“I think not.” Fenris snapped. He should hold his tongue, leave before he said something stupid, but his chest ached and there was a twisting creature squirming in his gut, all anger and hurt and it didn’t want to stop. He wanted to hate her, hate him, but he was having… difficulty.

“An _agent_ doesn’t eat with his betters.” He sneered as Solas winced, almost imperceptibly, before swiftly moving to the door. He stopped, hand on the doorknob.

“It was… nice to meet you. Athim.” As much as he wanted it to be a lie, it wasn't.

\--------------------------------------------

He raised his hand to the door, hand clenched into a tight fist. His knuckles whitened with tension, hovering over the dense wood as he hesitated. He flexed his clenched fingers in agitation, gritting his teeth to the point of pain.

 _You’re an idiot,_ Fenris thought. He had to be, to keep coming back like this. To pine at the man’s door like a puppy, when it was perfectly clear that he was of no more interest to the man. He had come here tonight, and the two nights previous, under some misguided notion in his own head that he was going to stop this. End it cleanly and clearly, set them both straight so that this… _awkwardness_ , could end. Yet each time he came here, he hesitated. He didn’t know why, didn’t really want to examine the matter closely, but each time he stood on the elf’s doorstep he felt like he couldn’t face him.

The gnawing feeling in his gut hasn’t dissipated since their last meeting, but it felt different now. Embarrassed, almost. He has snapped like a wounded beast, as if it was his place to snap at him. He was not just their leader, he was meant to be their _God_. He had forgotten his place, forgotten that he was little more than a powerful asset to the man. Fenris did not want to be the man’s _mistress…_ but he found himself wanting to stay closer than what he had been, before. Solas has spoken to him like an equal, treated him like a… friend. Fenris didn’t have many of those, but his outburst in front of his… preferred company might have ended any chance of that.

“Fasta vass…” He whispered, huffing as he dropped his clenched fist to his side. He closed his eyes, running his other hand briefly over his face before he turned and retreated down the hallway in defeat. It was the dead of night, the fortress slept and was silent save for the clink of armoured guards making their rounds. His footsteps were silent as he went, soft cloth breeches and shirt making it easy to manoeuvre undetected.

He reached the end of the short corridor, and turned the corner only to be presented with a gnarled, scarred face the smirked up at him, in an expression that showed a few too many rotted teeth for Fenris’ liking. Another guard stood beside him, an older woman with plain features and mousy brown hair. Her smirk did not seem kind, either.

“Wha’s this then, hmm?” The scarred elven man tilted his head, his tongue slipping between his teeth as he leered at him. He elbowed the woman next to him who smirked silently.

“Seems the words true then, the Wolf’s discarded _bitch_ is whimpering at ‘is door.” They laughed, an ugly, cruel sound. Fenris flinched, clenching his jaw.

It was unlikely he had been seen by many this late at night, but with the gossip slithering through the keep from loose tongue to loose tongue, his aborted nightly trips seem to have been well documented. He scowled, brow furrowing in distaste at the thought. The thought that _he_ might hear made him want to squirm.

Fenris moved forward, shoving his shoulder in to the male guard’s armour clad one, to push past him, but one gauntleted hand shoved hard into the centre of his chest. He stumbled back, a low growl slipping past his lips in warning. The man laughed, as the woman moved forward to trail a finger across his clenched jaw in mock tenderness.

“Not so fast, sweet-cheeks. I’ll take the Wolf’s sloppy seconds, I ain’t fussy. I hear you’re gaggin’ for it, now.” The woman leered at him, and Fenris’ growl turned into a snarl as he shoved her hand away. She placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed, Fenris’ back hitting the wall with a low thud as they crowded closer to him. He glared, flexing his still clenched fingers as he light his lyrium brands. He would rather not have to explain two corpses, but they has forced his hadn. The scent of lyrium filled the air as the faint blue glow grew stronger, and the two guard’s drew back slightly in apprehension.

“Enough.” A voice barked. The two guards were thrown to the side, magic humming in the air like locusts. An invisible force pulled the two up by their throats, their breaths coming in short, pained gasps as the writhed against the stone.

Fenris shoved himself away from the wall as Solas moved forward from the shadows, long pale fingers wrapping around the man’s throat. He moved his face closer, eyes cloudy with rage as he stared into the man’s eyes.

“Touch him again, and you will not live to tell any of your tales.” He glared to the side, into the wet, fear filled eyes of the woman.

“You will be dealt with. I do not tolerate your kind within my ranks.” He snarled, his fingers reluctantly prying away from the man’s throat as they were released, sliding down the wall with a clatter. They lay, gasping, in a crumpled heap at his feet. Solas turned to Fenris, his expression softening.

“Are you alright?” Fenris scowled, righting his crumpled shirt.

“I could have pulled their still beating hearts from their chests, I did not need your… help.” Solas tilted his head, one eyebrow raised as he regarded him solemnly.

Fenris paused, staring for a moment, before turning on his heel to leave. He closed his eyes a moment as his elbow was caught, the grip firm but not unbreakable should he wish to.

“We must speak.” Fenris felt panic rise in his chest, urge to flee rising, but if he did not do it now he feared he never would. He turned and nodded, schooling his face into a purely neutral expression as he followed him down the corridor once more. Once inside, Solas closed the door firmly, blocking out the sounds of the guards groaning in self-pity as they gathered themselves up again.

Fenris slowly crossed the room, standing in front of a low burning fireplace set into the far wall. He wanted distance between them, for this conversation. Solas waved a hand to the fire, and the flames danced higher as they came to life once more.

“I… did not know that you were being treated like that.” Solas crossed to his desk laden with papers, and picked up a jug of wine resting upon it. He filled a glass with the dark liquid, before raising it to his lips. He clasped the cup within two hands, fingers fiddling nervously on its stem.

“Perhaps you were right, about keeping this… hidden.” Fenris snorted, turning to look at him.

“Hardly matters now, does it?” Fenris winced at the bitterness in his voice, hoping it was only obvious to his own ears. Solas hummed, leaning back to perch upon the edge of the table.

“I suppose you are right… whatever the case may be, I should have known about the situation sooner.” Fenris laughed, a bitter sound.

“You would have had to be around, to hear rumours, Dread Wolf.” Fenris stared into the flames. “You are meant to be our leader, yet you have not been seen or given an order in weeks.” Solas sighed, taking a few steps towards him.

“I know…” He reached his side, staring into the flames with him. “She has almost fully recovered now. She has been allowed to move freely around the keep for the best part of the last week, so I will be resuming… most of my duties, now. I am sorry, that I haven’t paid you the attention you deserve.” Fenris frowned, feeling the heated weight of the man’s stare on him.

“Why did you not tell her?” Solas frowned, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I would have thought that was obvious?” Fenris swallowed, his mouth suddenly tasting bitter. It was true then. He didn’t want his ancient lover to find out about his… casual dalliance. Fenris felt the weight on him then, of sleepless nights spent pacing and filtering through his own thoughts. He felt Solas’ hand grip his forearm gently, breakable, like before. His thumb drew gentle circles through his shirt.

“Stay, just for tonight.” Fenris shook his head, but Solas stepped closer, leaning in. He gently clasped his chin, pulling his gaze to him as his lips brushed against Fenris’.

“Just to rest. We have both had… a long few weeks. Let this wait until tomorrow.” Fenris’ head told him that this was a terrible idea, that he needed to end this here and now, like he had intended to. He opened his mouth to tell him no, that they were done. A slow breath slipped from him as he licked his lips and hesitated.

 _Selfish_ _fool_ , a voice whispered inside his head as he found himself saying yes instead.

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Mm…” Fenris grumbled as movement jostled him. He ignored it, burrowing his head further into the warm, comforting embrace of the pillow beneath him as he clung to blissful unconsciousness. He shivered as something tickled the bared skin of his back, a light sensation trailing down his spine. He huffed, wriggling away from the tickling sensation that would not leave, and extricated his arms from beneath the pillow to roll over. He let out a comfortable sigh as the tickling sensation ceased for a few minutes, and he floated in the pleasant sensation between the waking world and the fade.

“Hmm…” Fenris wriggled again as the sensation returned, tickling against his chest and sending shivers down the length of his body. The sensation continued as Fenris began to slip back towards unconsciousness, before it disappeared entirely.

He barely registered the shuffling of bed clothes, but hummed in pleasure at the sensation of something warm and wet against his neck. He tilted his head up unconsciously, the sensation distracting him enough to make him unaware of the sensation of light cloth smalls being slipped down his hips. The sensation left his neck and slipped lower and lower still, until an intense pleasure bloomed low in his stomach and wrenched him abruptly to the waking world.

His eyes snapped open with a jolt as he gasped, eyes snapping down to analyse the threat as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. The sight he was greeted with did nothing to slow down the wild fluttering in his chest, as a pair of intense eyes bored into him and a set of lips wrapped beautifully around his hardening cock.

Fenris shivered, biting the inside of his cheek as pleasure bombarded him and he panted. One of his hands flew down to the smooth head, intent on pushing him away but he found himself unwilling to, grasping the smooth head closer.

Fenris fell back against the sheets, back arching and writhing at the sensation of glorious suction, and a pleasant hum from Solas’ throat sent him into near spasms as his mouth gaped.

Fenris’ other fist flew to his mouth, biting hard on the knuckle of his thumb to supress the whimpers in his throat, the heat building too much. His eyes caught onto Solas’ smug ones, and he froze.

He had left him for weeks, not spoken a word to him. Fenris has come here to put this to an end, yet here he was once again, in the Dread Wolf’s bed. This had to stop, for his own sake. He couldn’t let the man take advantage of him, use him when he liked then discard him, like Danarius had. Fenris was better than that, he knew that now.

Fenris pushed him away, his lips coming away with an obscenely wet sound as Fenris panted. He rolled away from the other elf, looking around to find his clothing as he stood. They lay where he had left then the night before, his leggings and tunic neatly folded and placed upon the desk.

“Da’fen?...” Solas watched him stalk to the table, rolling gracefully off the bed to stand as well. Fenris grabbed the tunic, hastily shaking it out.

“Fenris?” He could hear Solas’ approach, soft bare footsteps padding gently on the stone floor behind him. He growled as the shirt unfolded upside down, ignoring the mage’s question. He almost jumped as he felt hands gently on his hips, and the other man’s face pressing into his neck. Had Fenris not been panicking, the situation would have been quite pleasant.

“Talk to me, Da’fen. We agreed we would talk.” Fenris stopped, shirt dangling from his hands and growled, the growing heat in his gut now nothing to do with pleasure.

“Talk? Fine. We are through with this… dalliance. That is all there is to say.” Fenris moved to pull the tunic on, but found his hips pushed forward and pinned to the table, Solas’ chest pressed tight to his back to cage him in.

“I will not have you running off before we talk about this properly. I… must apologise to you. I have neglected you, not given you the attention you deserve. I have left you open to… criticism from my followers. I was selfish to let them know, we clearly did not want that.” Solas kissed his neck, lips lingering apologetically.

Fenris couldn’t help the low moan that slipped from him as his tongue laved at a sensitive spot there, nipping at the skin, as his thumbs rubbed circles into his hips. He wriggled restlessly against him, acutely aware of the other elf’s own wilted arousal pressed against his lower back.

“I… I won’t be yours to take and discard, Mage.” Solas frowned against his neck.

“That is something I will never do to you. On that, you have my word.” Solas kissed his temple gently, and Fenris hesitated. His brain told him no, he must be lying, he would never leave her for someone like him. She was one of his own after all, and Fenris was just… a nobody.

Solas’ hips shifted forward to grind against his back, fingers on his hips loosening enough for him to leave should he choose to do so. One hand slipped from his hip to caress his back, awaiting permission.

“I won’t… share, Mage.” He wouldn’t. He knew if the man said he would have them both, he would walk away. He did not share, and he would not be any man’s second choice. He missed Solas’ frown of confusion, his eyebrow rising in disbelief.

“Never.” Solas whispered, kissing him deeply when Fenris tilted his head to the side. His teeth nipped at Fenris’ lips, tongues clashing, as his hand slipped lower. Magic stirred the air again, and Fenris gasped as he felt a grease slicked finger tease his cleft. Fenris hastily pushed piled papers out of the way, throwing the still folded leggings onto the floor somewhere behind them. Fenris leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk as his heaving chest almost touched the cold wood. He felt a leg nudge at his own, parting them slightly as one finger teased him.

Fenris growled, breath coming fast as he wriggled, that slick finger teasing but never breaching him. He growled impatiently as the elf chuckled behind him, and Fenris flexed his fingers against the wood in frustration.

“Get on with it.” He had made him wait _weeks_ , there was no time for teasing. If Solas was lying to him, if he went back to her again, Fenris wasn’t sure he could forgive him. Wasn’t sure he could stop short of beating him to a pulp, but he would give the man a shadow of doubt. After all he had done for Fenris, he deserved at least that.

“Impatient, Da’Fen?” Fenris could hear the smirk in the man’s voice, and he snarled. He pushed back wriggling his hips firmly against the mage’s cock, and smiled at the hitch in the man’s breath. He opened his mouth, a witty retort lingering on his lips, but one glorious finger breached him and all that came out was a growled yelp.

He whimpered as the finger pumped into him, his own fingers clenching into fists as he leaned further forward, check pressed to the desk as he writhed. A second finger slipped in, and he hissed at the moments displeasure. Solas murmured his apologies, magic stirring the air once more to ease the way. Pain quickly morphed into a low, burning pleasure. Solas leaned forward, biting at the back of Fenris neck with a smirk.

“Enough dallying, Ma—” Fenris growled, but was cut off by a sharp knock on the door. They both froze, heads whipping in the direction of the noise. They sat in silence for a moment, nothing but their panting breaths in the air before Solas cleared his throat from above him.

“If it is anything short of a siege on this very castle, come back later. I can deal with it at the meeting later.” He yelled, barely contained annoyance in his voice at the interruption. Fenris couldn’t help but smirk, a welling feeling of hot satisfaction settling in his chest. Until a familiar voice replied and a feeling of dread settled there instead.

“It’s Athim, Babae!” Solas froze above him for a moment, before jerking upright, panic on his face when Fenris glanced around. Fenris winced as his fingers slipped from him hastily.

“Da’len! I… ah… Now is not a good time…” Fenris felt anger stir again, a tight feeling in his chest, he propped himself up on his elbows again and stared at the wood grain below him. He clenched his teeth, pain blossoming in his jaw.

“You didn’t answer my question, before. Why did you not tell her about me, _Dread Wolf_?” He whispered, the promise of a snarl in the back of his throat as he hissed his title. Solas stared at him, wincing in-case she had heard them.

“Now is not the time…” He whispered back, panic in his voice and Fenris slammed his fist into the table.

“Why?” Solas looked confused again, his brow furrowing.

“Babae? Are you alright?” Solas glanced at the door, panic again stealing over his face as she heard the bang.

“Yes! I am… fine, Da’len. Just… changing. I will be out to join you for breakfast soon.” His voice was shaky, more worried than Fenris had ever seen him and that felt like a stab to the gut.

“I. Am. Waiting.” He snarled, this time loud enough for her to hear.

“Babae, is there someone with you?” Solas winced and glared at Fenris.

“No, just… thinking aloud.” He glanced down to Fenris, who now glared at him over his shoulder, still pinned to the table.

Fenris’ face must have shown some of the hurt it caused him, because Solas’ expression softened.

“Why don’t you want her to know I am here?” Solas frowned.

“I would have thought that would be quite obvious?” Fenris shook his head, and pushed back against him, struggling to break free of his hold, but he held him firm, his hands on his arms now. Solas’ face was a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“How can you not understand?” He whispered, glancing to the door again as he heard Athim shuffle outside, “I know you are from a less than… private background, but I thought it would be quite plain why I wouldn’t want my daughter to walk in on—” Fenris blinked at him over his shoulder, and froze. He turned his head, gaping at the man.

“Your _daughter!?”_ He whispered, anger draining from him in an instant leaving him light and drained, a strange feeling in his chest a mixture of embarrassment and something else.

Solas face froze and his eyes widened in understanding. He turned his head to the door again, as Fenris stared at him.

“Athim, I will meet you in the mess hall. I have someone I want to introduce you to.” He called and she hummed in affirmation. Solas turned to him and laughed, pulling him close.

“Who did you think she was? I thought Abelas had told you…” Solas’ hand trailed comfortingly down his side, their bodies pulled tight against each other. He pulled his chin towards him, pressing a soft kiss to Fenris’ lips once again. Fenris felt his face heat now, almost embarrassed that he had fell prey to rumours and gossip.

“I… everyone said she was your lover, from… before.” He blushed, thinking back to what Abelas had said, “I think that Abelas… thought I already knew.” Solas smiled into his neck, like a weight had been lifted from him too, leaving him elated and pleased beyond measure.

“You thought I was going to abandon you, for her.” Fenris winced, face growing hot as the man chuckled into his neck.

“Well, you hardly did anything to dissuade anyone.” Fenris grumbled, uncomfortable now the rage was gone, but his chest felt tighter with some feeling he could not identify. Solas hadn’t lied to him.

“No… I am sorry. I did neglect you. I…” He sighed, and he looked pained for a moment, “I did not want to tell her about you. I wanted to spare her that… pain. I have had time to come to terms with what happened. I watched from the fade as I slept, watched the world crumble. I woke to see the ruins of my people with my own eyes, I had time to accept that. Accept that it was my fault.” Fenris frowned at the sorrow in his eyes, and knew that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uthenera requires magic to sustain the body, a great deal of it. When I slumbered, the foci provided that magic. For Athim, that Uthenera was a form of blood magic. It was.. warped. It provided barely enough magic to keep her alive, she would have entered the fade but she was not lucid within it. She hovered in darkness, lost and confused, for thousands of years. For her, she went to sleep a few weeks ago and woke to find everyone she knew dead and her people in the gutter. When I erected the veil… her mother was still alive. I… did not want her to think I had betrayed her mother, by taking another mate.” Fenris’ face softened in understanding. The girl must have been terrified, grief stricken and near death. Of course, he didn’t leave her side for weeks. She was his _daughter._

“I understand. I know what it is… to wake lost and alone.” Solas hugged him close, cheek pressed to his temple as he breathed. Fenris had been lucky at least, to not retain memories of what came before. Less for a slave to long for, when all you remembered was pain.

“I know, ma lath. I will tell her, she does not deserve deception and neither do you. First however…” He smirk, hand trailing downward, “we have something very important to finish.”

Fenris laughed as their lips clashed, for what was not the last time today.

\---------------------------------------------

Fenris sighed quickly, grabbing the crook of Solas’ arm quickly to stop his entrance further across the mess hall. Athim had not yet seen them, her eyes locked intently on the plate of food piled high in front of her.

“You do not need to do this. I understand now, she isn’t ready.” He shook his head, as Solas smiled at him.

“I do, Da’fen.” Solas smiled at him, but Fenris could see the nervousness swimming behind his eyes. He may be a liar, the great betrayer, but he couldn’t hide everything from Fenris. He brushed his fingers gently over Fenris’ knuckles where he gripped him.

“She needs to know, to move on from her mother, as I have. You do not deserve to be held only in the shadows, either.” He turned away from him, determination in the set of his jaw as he weaved through the crowd before them.

“Babae! Oh, and Fenris!” Athim’s eyes lit up as she saw him, but after a moment she cocked her head in confusion. Her smile faded as they approached.

“Is something wrong?” Fenris chuckled and shook his head. The girl was just as good at reading her father as he was.

Solas shook his head and sat down opposite her, hands reaching out across the desk to clasp hers.

“No! No, nothing is wrong, Da’len… How was your morning? How do you feel?” She scoffed fondly at him, squeezing Solas’ hands reassuringly, and rolled her eyes at Fenris. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it sooner… she had his eyes. 

“Fine, same as all the other mornings! You told me you had someone I was to meet? I have already met Fenris here,” She smiled at him, “so I assume they have not arrived you? Not that I am not pleased to meet you again, Fenris!”

Fenris smiled at her, unsure of how to proceed.

“I… thank you. I must apologise… for my behaviour, the last time we met.” Solas glanced at him and opened his mouth to speak but Fenris stopped him with a shake of his head.

“There was a… misunderstanding. Whatever the reason, my actions in your presence were not acceptable.” She laughed at him and waved one hand dismissively.

“Nonsense, I have met far ruder men than you. You are much more pleasant than them, I assure you. There is nothing to forgive, falon!” Solas smile reached his eyes truly then, the edges crinkly beautifully as he laughed.

“I am glad you find him agreeable, Da’len. The person I would like you to meet…” His eyes grew distant for a moment then, and his smile grew sad as he considered how to proceed.

“I loved your mother, Da’len. You know that, but… for me, that is but a distance memory. Your mother was my most trusted friend, even after we grew apart.” Athim let out a shaky sigh as she swallowed, eyes downcast.

“Your mother would have loved what you have become… and I will never forget what we had.” He paused, one hand rising to tilt her chin back up.

“I… have taken another mate, Athim.” Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

“When?” She asked quietly, Solas smile slipped from his face slowly.

“It started long before we found you.” Solas cast his eyes down to stare at their clasped hands, and Fenris averted his eyes from the private moment. Solas’ eyes snapped up however as she began to shake, his eyes panicked for a moment. Fenris eyes snapped to her as well in concern.

“You’re an idiot, Babae! You thought I would be upset?” She lifted her head, her eyes wet as she laughed and her body shook with it. They both relaxed visibly.

“I assume it was you in his rooms then earlier, Fenris?” Fenris opened his mouth but could think of no swift lie, his cheeks and neck blooming with embarrassed heat as she laughed harder. Solas grimaced, his cheeks colouring as well. She sobered slightly after a moment, squeezing her father’s hand comfortingly.

“I know that mother is… gone. For you, it has been millennia since the fall.” She bit her lip, casting her eyes to Fenris with a smile.

“I want you to be happy, Babae. Does Fenris make you happy?” She flicked her eyes back to her father, eyes staring holes into him. He chuffed out a laugh, and smiled at her.

“Ma Vhenan’enaste.” She smiled brightly then, and Fenris scowled at the cryptic answer. She glanced at him and laughed, amused by his ignorance.

“Then of course, you have my blessing. It was never in question!”

Fenris frowned and fidgeted for a moment.

“You… do not have a problem with me… being a man?” She frowned, brow furrowing in confusion and her mouth dropped open as she looked to her father who shook his head solemnly.

“It is not common any longer, Da’len. They can be very… rigid, now. It can be frowned upon. When the magic was torn from us…” Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding. She was such an intelligent creature, Fenris thought.

“It couldn’t be sustained… I see. No, Fenris, I have no problem with that. My mother was male, after all.” Fenris frowned deeply, head whipping to Solas in confusion but he shook his head and laughed.

“That is a long and complicated explanation, Da’fen. I will tell you… another time.” Fenris shook his head, but let it be for now. He could drag the explanation out of the stubborn elf later. For now, Fenris let out a breath and felt… lighter. Until he felt Solas lean closer to him.

“Now, there’s the matter of telling everyone else in this keep…” They both laughed at Fenris look of instant disgust and his growl of disapproval.

“First, however… breakfast.”

\----------------------------------------------------


	7. Halam'shivanas

“Oh, poor little _whelp._ Look how pretty he looks, all bashed up and on his knees.” The woman leered at him, her greasy blonde hair pulled back too tight and her too thin lips revealed a row of yellowing teeth. Her grip in his hair tightened, pulling his head back so pain shot up his neck and his scalp burned. She stared down at him as he snarled, glaring at her with the one eye that had not yet swollen shut. She brought her knee up and he bit back a cry, which escaped only as a sharp grunt, as it connected sharply with his broken ribs.

“You backed the wrong _dog_. Soon enough our masters will whip him into shape, like the overreaching mongrel he is.” She sneered, her lip curling in delight as Fenris breathed sharply through his nose. He could taste a sharp metallic tang on his tongue that lingered at the back of his throat, and feel his heart beat throbbed in his ears. His swollen flesh pulsing with it, and his head felt heavy as if the back of his skull was weighed down with rocks. He swallowed, his throat churning as he chuckled bitterly.

“So, what? You intend to slash at the veil, like a petulant child? Create another breech?” He spat, and he saw the fury ripple across her face as she was spattered with his blood. Brute force would only punch a hole in the sky, maybe even greater than the one before. “That will not bring your _masters_ back.”

The fury slipped from her then and she smiled wickedly, and pleased murmurs spread through the men spread out in the cell behind her. She cooed, leaned forward and stroked his jaw with on filthy finger, until he could smell the reek of her breath on his lips and his skin crawled with the blood magic he could feel crawling under her skin like worms.

“Oh, simple boy, we did not take only you.” She smiled, nail scoring a deep mark across his jaw before she gestured behind her. Fenris stared at the cold stone ceiling above him as he waited, hearing shuffling behind her, his vision wavering and rippling as his head throbbed and his neck ached. Something was placed in her hand, and she laughed again, bringing it slowly to his throat.

“We have the Harellan’mi.” His breath caught in his throat as cold steel dragged against his throat, light enough to only drag against the skin but not breech it. His markings flared along with the magic rippling under the surface, one feeding the other as the promise of fire licked up along his veins where it touched. His mouth dropped open in a pained pant, and behind her the metal clang of the door sounded.

“We are ready, lethallan.” She bit her lip in sadistic pleasure as she looked upon his beaten form, and leaned back slightly.

“Then let us begin.” She murmured, and sliced.

\--------------------------------------

“Mm…” Fenris shuddered, panting as the pleasure that had coursed through his veins slipping away into nothing but a pleasant after glow, and the ache of protesting muscles. He felt more than saw the smug, self-satisfied grin of the mage as he flopped over to lay beside him, his absence leaving his sweat damp skin vulnerable to the unpleasant breeze. 

They lay in silence for a moment, until their thundering heart beats calmed to a low, pleasant pounding in their ears. He stretched, spine arching and he bit his lip to supress a tired groan at the pleasant stretch, before sitting forward until the sheet pooled low around his waist and his stomach muscles protested.

“No.” One lithe, pale arm slipped around his waist, fingers digging gently into his flesh as an annoyed grumble came from the lump of satisfied elf curled behind him. Fenris pushed his palm lightly into the forearm curled around his groin, and glared behind him half-heartedly. The other elf’s face was half hidden, his cheek pressed flush to his back. He chuckled at the expression he saw there, as if he had removed a sweet cake from a child or a frilly cake from the Dread Wolf.

“Let me up.” Fenris grumbled. The hand clasped tighter around him, fingers digging in lightly now as he rose behind him, lips pressed to the lyrium lining the back of his neck and an insistent tongue flicked out to sweep greedily along the skin there.

“No.” Solas grumbled in his neck. Fenris breathed in sharply as the soft tongue sparked against his skin, the scent of magic permeating the air and a pleasant heat pulsed teasingly along his skin as his markings flared to life. The hand that was not wrapped tightly around his waist trailed up to his shoulder, tugging him back against the mage’s sweat dampened skin.

“It is too late to be doing this, mage.” Solas paused, lips trailing to nip at the skin of his neck.

“I agree.” His lips whispered upward, tickling gently along his jaw. Fenris forced a frown to his own lips, glaring at the grinning fool wrapped around him like a limpet.

“Then release me.” Solas paused, catching Fenris’ eye.

“Or move in here with me.” Fenris froze as his hand moved from his shoulder to clasp his jaw, forcing Fenris to look at him. Fenris’ swallowed nervously and eyed the elf warily as he continued.

“You know I cannot be here every night, you would have your privacy if that is what you wish… this room is one of the most heavily warded and guarded places within this fortress. You would be safer here, comfortable.” Fenris scowled, wrenching his jaw from the man’s grip and captured his wrist, clasping it a little too tightly.

“I do not require your so-called _guards_ to watch me day and night. I am not some defenceless child, regardless of how old you are or what you may think of me.” He lit the brands of his forearm where he clasped him, “I have been hunted my entire life and lived to be here. I do not require you to defend me.” He released Solas’ wrist, throwing it back at him, but he saw his expression softened.

“Ir Abelas… I may have… phrased that wrong.” He looked almost sheepish for a moment, but there was an unmistakable mischief in his eyes as he regarded Fenris. “I want you here. It _is_ safer, but that is simply.. an enjoyable _side benefit_.”

Fenris clenched his jaw at the laugh that threatened to bubble to the surface. He was trying to justify the offer to cover up the fact that while his safety was important to him, it was not the enjoyable side benefit he had in mind. Or the most enjoyable side benefit he had in mind.

“I… will consider it.” Solas blinked, as if he had not expected that from him, before that smug grin returned and he buried his face in his neck, pulling him back onto the bed. Fenris grumbled in protest, but let himself be manipulated until he lay tucked tightly into the man’s side.

“People will talk.” Fenris grumbled.

“They do little else, Vhenan.”

\------------------------------------------

“You should have told me.” Fenris tried to keep the hurt from seeping into the lines of his frown, as he stared at the other elf across the war table. His fists clenched where they rested upon the desk in front of him, and Solas shook his head.

“I know—” He began, but Fenris cut him off with a laugh, a sharp bitter sound even to his own ears.

“No, you didn’t. You still don’t, or you wouldn’t have done this _twice._ ” He hissed the last word through his teeth. Abelas stood beside him, arms tightly crossed and his brow furrowed. For a man with such a stoic face, that meant he was just as furious as Fenris.

“Do you not remember what happened the last time?” Abelas’ barked.

Solas winced, regarding him through his lashes as his fingers drummed on the table between them.

“I… yes. I should not have kept this from you this time… I… do not truly know why I did.” He looked sheepish for a moment, and Abelas let out an unamused snort as he turned to pace the room in agitation.

“You know perfectly well. You knew this was a disastrous course of action, Dread Wolf. This is not where your duty lies.” Fenris sighed, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead as the silence stretched.

“It is… a terrible plan.” Solas whispered, and Abelas cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “When have I ever tread the path that seemed wise, my friend?”

Abelas laughed and Fenris shook his head. He slammed his palms back down onto the table sharply as he growled.

“No. You do not get to _laugh_ this off, Mage.” He glared as him as his markings pulsed in agitation. “You do not get to bring me _here_ , of all places, and laugh that off. She will not abide my presence, nor will I bear hers.” Solas smiled sadly, sighing.

“Ir abelas, Da’fen… I know. I will keep you safe, they will not touch you.” He looked at him then, his eyes pleading with him. “She is dying, Fenris. I can stop that, at least for a time. I need you with me.” Fenris closed his eyes, sighing deeply, shaking his head even as he knew he would not allow himself to be left behind again.

* * * *

“I asked Abelas about her, you know.” Athim smiled at him as they walked, and Fenris frowned, eyes locked on the ground as they moved through the gardens. He didn’t reply, and the silence that was usually comfortable between them felt tense for a moment.

“He loved her.” She glanced at him, her voice low and calming. It was not a question, for they both knew he had. It was well known the inquisitor was precious to him. His lost love, the one he could never be with but would always wish to. The thought left a sour taste in Fenris’ mouth.

“I heard about…. you, as well.” Fenris winced, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He did not… regret his actions, before Solas found him. That did not mean he was proud to speak of them.

“I am not a… good man, Athim.” She laughed, her lips pursing as she frowned.

“There is no such thing as a good man, Fenris. We are all selfish creatures, driven by instinct and desire. Love.” She glanced at him a moment. “What you did was neither wrong nor right, it simply was and cannot be undone. They only thing we can do about our actions is continue on, or atone for them.” Fenris glanced at her, and laughed.

“So says the paragon of virtue, or at least that is how your father’s men see you.” She giggled, a mischievous look on her face that vanished quickly.

“Never trust impressions.” She smiled, and they lapsed into silence again as they walked.

“It’s strange.” She blurted abruptly, and Fenris cocked an eye at her. “ _Two_ mates, in such as short space of time. It seems strange that he would wish to restore what was, when he has found so much in what _is,_ now.” Fenris cocked his head at her curiously.

“It is unusual he would take so many… ‘mates’?” Fenris had to admit, he was intrigued. Fenris knew little about the thousands of years the man had lived, save what minute details he had allowed him to glimpse in the fade. He had seemed more inclined to show him what was of the world before, not what was of _his_ world before. Athim nodded enthusiastically.

“To care was a dangerous thing for him, for most of his life.” She looked sad for a moment. “Though I think that was more of an excuse. He had a few… brief entanglements in this youth, before I was born of course, but in the millennia he has lived, he has only taken four true mates. To have two within a few years… is truly special. I am beginning to think this world might hold more than it lets on, Fenris.” She smiled sadly, but her eyes were warm as she looked at him. Fenris cast his eyes down again to avoid her inquisitive gaze, his cheeks heating as she giggled at him. She hooked her arm around his as they walked.

“I would not worry too much, Fenris. He would never betray you like that like, for her. Your time at Skyhold will be a smooth one, I’m sure.”

Fenris smiled slightly, just a slight curling of the lips as he felt a weight lift from him that he had not known was there. Perhaps it would be alright.

\-------------------------

Fenris hissed through clenched teeth as his shoulder blades slammed into the cold stone wall behind him, flesh grinding hard against it as a mass of grey flesh crowded his vision. Hot breath huffed angrily out his nostrils, one massive hand encircling his throat and squeezing just too tight.

" _You."_ He snarled, and Fenris choked slightly as his airways closed painfully, gasping for whatever little air he could get. His arms raised instinctively, fingers wrapping desperately around the thick wrist only to gasp as air flooded his lung once again, burning a trail down his throat as the Qunari was torn from his grasp and thrown across the room. Fenris fell to his knees, hand grasping at his own throat as the wall opposite him shook as he was slammed bodily into it.

"Enough. Let him down, Solas." The words were clipped, anger barely contained, but the lilt to that voice was one Fenris knew well. Tevinter.

He looked up through moist eyes, throat still burning in protest as he swallowed thickly. Solas stared at him, concern well masked but Fenris knew him too well for that. He nodded minutely, and the other elf's face turned to regard the new arrival.

"Dorian." The Tevinter's teeth clenched, jaw flexing as he regarded him. He gestured to the Quanari, seething in rage as he struggled against the magical bindings that held him. "This is not the welcome you promised me, falon." The Tevinter's eyes softened slightly, loss softening the rage bubbling beneath.

"We did not know you would bring him." He sighed, finger playing thoughtfully with the immaculately kept moustache that sat upon his upper lip. "It was not a wise move, either, we thought you'd be smarted than that. He..." He glared at Fenris, "He killed Dalish, Solas. Almost took out Krem and Harding, too. It took them months to recover, and even now they aren't mission ready."

"I know." Solas nodded solemnly, sighing mournfully as he regarded Bull. Fenris cast his eyes down to where his fingers gripped the gritty floor and clenched his teeth. He did not regret what he did, but that did not mean he took pleasure in its aftermath.

He rose to his feet slowly, coughing as he blinked the moisture from his eyes and lights darted around his vision. Solas straightened, arms coming to clasp lightly behind his back.

"I have come as you asked, unarmed and with a small but necessary party, to assist the recovery of the inquisitor." He gestured stiffly to wall. "My party, all of my party, is not to be harmed in any way. My party is not to be spoken to by anyone, with the exception of the inner circle, unless it is necessary or permitted. In return, we will remain within whatever designated space you have provided for us without interference to the workings of the inquisition. Are those terms acceptable."

Dorian walked slowly over to the qunari, who growled as he approached.

"He cannot be here, Kadan. I can't..." The mage tutted at him, hand reaching up to gently stroke his jaw.

"You must, Amatus. Without them, you may well lose another dear friend." The qunari grunted, head slamming heavily back against the wall as he clenched his fists. A few moments of silence past, and Fenris felt out of place in the private moment until he nodded slowly. Solas clenched his fist, and the bindings snapped with an audible pop like the lash of a whip. The Bull landed roughly, unsteady feet swaying beneath him before he recovered. Dorian turned, gesturing dramatically to a room off the grand hall.

"Agreed. Come with me. You are to be housed in the rotunda. Not that I need to show you the way." Solas nodded.

"Then you will take me to the inquisitor."

\-----------------------------------------------

“Solas.” The voice was soft, and calm. Almost undetectable. It came from a lump of piled up Orlesian silk sheets on a large four poster bed, across the dark room from where they stood.

The place was sparsely lit, a few candles scattered around the dishevelled room barely enough to reveal the deeply shadowed face that peeped from below the pile of fabric. Solas brushed past him quickly, a sharp intake of breath almost inaudible.

“Ir abelas, I should have come sooner.” She smiled at him, one pale hand slipping out to reach for his as he descended to his knees at her bedside. He took the offered hand, wrapping his fingers tightly with hers.

Fenris could not force his eyes to leave where their skin touched.

>p>“No. That you came at all is enough, I… wanted to see you before I died, ma lath.” Solas eyes widened and he squeezed tightly, brushing his lips gently to the skin of her knuckles before straightening and released her hand, reluctance evident in every movement.

“You are not going to die today, Inquisitor. One day, but not today.” He turned her hand in his, so her palm bared upwards. Upon it lay the expected scars and splintering green light, pulsing erratically, but it was different now. A dark web spread from the centre of her palm where the anchor struck, leading down the veins of her arm. The dark colour almost seemed to throb within her veins. Solas trailed a finger along it delicately.

“I am to remove the anchor, Vhenan.” The smile slipped from her face as she yanked back her palm, her face contorted in horror.

“No. No, you will not have it. Not for that. I told him. I told Dorian he was only to get you to… say goodbye.” He shook his head, a sad frown on his face.

“No. I do not need it for that purpose anymore.” He brought her palm back to him, gently uncurling her fingers one by one.

“I promise this to you. I will not use the anchor for any purpose.” He locked eyes with her, forefinger and thumb of his other hand clasping her chin. “Unless the alternative is much worse for everyone.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“I shouldn’t trust you… but I do.” Her eyes snapped to Fenris. “Even if you saved someone who tried to kill me. Who killed out friend, Solas.”

“Love can make us careless, and rash, Vhenan. You chose to leave his love to die, and I know it is not what you wanted… but you and I can both understand his actions, even if we cannot condone them.” Fenris frowned as she stared at him, eyes an unreadable glint in the darkness. Fenris shifted awkwardly. They had never really spoken about the circumstances of his recruitment. It had not occurred to him that the man might have hated his actions too.

“I will begin the process of removing the anchor now, before it can spread any further. This… will not painless, Inquisitor.” She nodded and Solas’ head turned to regard Fenris over his shoulder. “Return to Abelas, Fenris. I will not need you until later.”

Fenris swallowed hard, trying to determine the mix of emotions on his face but he turned away from him as magic began to tingle in the air as he probed experimentally at her flesh.

Fenris left, and Solas… did not so much as glance back.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Fenris scrubbed the heel of his hand to his forehead and sighed. His fingers twitched in agitation, his eyes scrunched shut as his skin tingled and twitched. He felt greedy eyes slide over his flesh, eager to see the one who butchered so many within these very walls as they walked past.

Their small party had been lead to the rotunda in which they were to stay. Make shift cots had lined the rotunda walls for their small company, with a table in the centre baring food and water. They had sat and ate their meals in silence at a table in the grand hallway that bore the inquisitors throne, as the sun had begun to dip low in the sky the members seated at the table had dropped away like flies to retire for the night.

Fenris tapped his bared foot against the cooling stone and huffed out a breath through his nose. The sun was slipping below the horizon, a warm orange glow bathing the place, yet Solas still had not returned.

“ This is foolish, Falon. You should rest.” Abelas frowned at him from his place opposite him. “He does not need you yet. Whatever he required you for, you should be well rested for it.”

Fenris frowned. He did not think he could sleep, when he felt every eye crawling over his skin like insects. Every one of them knew who he was. Knew him as the one who slaughtered so many of their people. The enemy. They knew who Solas was as well, the traitor and the monster of dalish legend. They were not safe here, and so Fenris would not rest until he had returned unharmed.

“ I will wait.” Abelas scowled at him.

“ I cannot leave you alone here. You know I cannot.” Fenris sighed and growled, irritation sparking easily when his shoulders were weighed down with fatigue.

“ I am not defenceless, I can fight for myself….” Fenris mouth snapped shut as another, familiar voice cut through to him.

“ I'll look out for him.” Abelas' hand flew to the daggers sheathed at his sides, but Fenris shook his head.

“ Varric.” Fenris tilted his head, brows furrowed as he cast his eyes down to the table where his lined hands lay. Varric's eyes bored into him like knives, though his expression was trained to it's usual lop sided smile.

“ I'm… glad to see you're ok, Broody.” Abelas cocked an eyebrow at Fenris, concern flitting across his face. His hands lingered close to his daggers, watching for any sign of a trick.

“ Leave us, Abelas.” Abelas frowned, looking like he wished to protest. Fenris' raised his eyes to his. “Now.”

Abelas nodded reluctantly, and pulled a dagger from it's sheath before placing it on the table near has hand.

“ If you require me, simply yell.” With that he was gone. Fenris picked up the dagger, it's handle ornately carved and rans his fingers across the intricate lines gently.

“ I hope that isn't for me.” The dwarf slid himself up into the space the elf has vacated, joke unsteady and followed by an awkward chuckle.

Fenris smiled gently, eyes glued to the glinting of the blade, but remained silent. They sat for a moment, tension raw and uncomfortable in the air.

“ Broken. Palms slick, red, whispers you never wanted to here, whispers you thought long dead from the darkness that burned...” Fenris whipped his head round, fist clenching tight on the dagger's hilt has his fist snapped out on instinct. A pale palm clasped his wrist from thin air and pushed, the blade slipping past his body harmlessly as Fenris staggered. He snarled as the figure disappeared and the voice appeared behind him .

“ That was before. Before you saw what was, what is. Pain faded, the whisper changed and spoke of other things. Though the fear still floats….” Varric reached a hand quickly out to the side, grasping at the empty air that wasn't empty any more. A boy stood, oversized clothes and a ridiculously large hat hid most of his features as he stared down at where the dwarf clasped his wrist gently.

“ That's enough, Cole.” Fenris stared as the boys features, furrowed in confusion.

“ He hurt, but he doesn't anymore. Fear still clings, will always cling, but he is… better.” He looked up at him then, eyes bright and Fenris found he couldn't look away as fear crawled in his gut. _Demon._

“ I'm not a demon…” He looked sad and wrung his hands, looking pleading to Varric. “I did it wrong. I made him scared.”

“ It's alright, Cole. Just… leave him, kid.” Varric released his wrist and smiled gently at the boy before he nodded slowly and smiled. Fenris blinked and he was gone. Fenris stared at the empty space where the boy had been, eyes wide and hands tight around the dagger still clasped almost painfully in his hands.

“ Ugh...” Varric sighed, and shrugged with a chuckled, “That was Cole. He's a good kid, just a little… much at first.” Fenris scowled, anger bubbling through his fear.

“ The inquisition keeps _demon_ pets now.” Varric shook his head at him.

“ No. Cole is not a demon, he's a spirit. A Spirit of Compassion…. Or he was anyway, he's more human now.” Varric sighed and laughed at the absurdity of his own explanation. “It's complicated...”

“ He had no right to be… digging around in my head.” Fenris growled.

“ I know, he knows, he just… sometimes he can't help it. He's drawn to hurt, and you…” Varric grimaced. “You're more hurt than most people, but… you're… better? Than you were?”

Fenris frowned, slowly lowering himself back onto the bench, eyes flickering around for any sign of the demon boy again as his mind flashed with images of his grief stricken self. He must have looked like a demon himself, slaughtering those people.

“ I… know my place again.” Varric smiled, but it was a sad one.

“ I'm happy you found your calling, Broody, but you picked the side that wants to destroy the world.” Varric raised an eyebrow at him.

“ Solas does not wish to destroy it. We...” Fenris paused, pondering for a moment. “He showed me what was. I have seen what was, through his eyes. I have seen when elves weren't shackled and beaten. He showed me why this world is poison. We won't take any pleasure in it. We will minimise the casualties where we can, but...”

Varric clenched his jaw then, anger flickering across his features before it was concealed. “It didn't take long for that to become a 'We', did it? I…” He sighed, “I thought you went to him to get out of there. I thought you just wanted to use him to try to get… _him_ back, or revenge or… something. I… wanted to get you back again, Fenris.”

Fenris closed his eyes, his throat tight with grief at the lose of a friend had not even lost yet. He raised his head, footsteps echoing down a set of stairs nearby.

“ You will always be… a good friend to me, Varric.” Varric nodded sadly.

“ Yeah… you too.” He chuckled. “I really hope you don't have to kill me one day.” They laughed as the footsteps drew closer. A young woman, human, appeared flustered and out of breath. Her eyes widened as she saw me.

“ The… Ugh… He has sent for you, now.” Fenris rose quickly, nodding. He released the dagger as he rose, and it fell with a small thud onto the table. Varric nodded to him and he smiled sadly back.

  
“ Take me to him.” 

\-------------------------------

It was darker now, cold dark stone now burnt with the orange of flickering torches and moonlight through the small thin windows cut into the stone wall. The flustered woman wrung her hands, glancing fearfully over her shoulder as she scurried quickly up the stairs to the inquisitor’s chambers with Fenris in toe. It was silent, eerily so. Fenris set his jaw as they reached the top of the staircase, and the woman pushed the door open with one shaking hand.

“Here, Sir… I… I will go. I will wait…” She stuttered, before fleeing down the stairs and leaving Fenris peering into the exposed room. He moved forward cautiously.

The room was dark, the curtains had been drawn so that the only source of light were the flickering of a few torches on the walls, and a candle on the inquisitor’s bedside. His eyes flickered to the lump on the bed as it emitted a whimper, her sweat slicked forehead gleamed in the light. She appeared to be unconscious, a belt of leather fallen to her side. He moved closer, until the marks of teeth became evident on it’s surface. Solas knelt beside her, head bowed and silent.

“Is she…?” Fenris approached slowly, brow furrowing as the sound of rapid shallow breath became evident as he got closer. Solas head rose and he cast a glance over his shoulder at him, the action slow as if his head weighed more than it should. Fenris snarled and lunged forward in time to catch the man fall as he attempted to rise. His brow was as sweat slicked as hers, and he panted freely now.

“What have you done, fool mage?” He snarled, concern coming out as anger but he wouldn’t correct himself. Solas leaned heavily on him as he straightened, hands shaking as one arm wrapped around his back and shoulder for support. The mage hummed, eyes half shut with fatigue.

“She… passed out. The pain…” He took a moment, breathing deeply. “It is not finished, in the morning I—” Fenris growled, hauling the man closer to his side.  
“No. This is too much, you—” Solas shook his head and shushed him gently, his free hand clasping Fenris’ side gently.

“Before, I…” They took tentative steps forward, “was going to remove the arm. Too much time passed, the corruption of the anchor spread too far. I must force it back…”

“You did not tell me this could do this to you! You could kill yourself over one woman!” Solas winced and glanced back at her, but his knees buckled and almost sent them both to the floor.

“I would do anything for her….” Fenris teeth clenched as his chest clenched painfully. “Just as I would for you.”

Fenris cast his gaze down and shook his head as his chest fluttered uncomfortably. He hauled the other elf up again, and swept his up, pulling him tight to his chest as he began to move. He looked down, and saw the elf could barely keep his head up. It nestled tightly into his chest, his eyes slipping closed. Anger slipped into his veins like poison then, and he scowled. How could one man be so idiotic, all the time?

He took the steps quickly but steadily, glad that the elf had shed most of his armour within the bedroom. As they reached the bottom, the woman’s eyes grew wide and she retreated before remembering herself.

“Water, food and elfroot.” She nodded hastily, and all but ran in the direction of the kitchens.

They slipped quickly through the hall, the remaining people staring unabashedly as Fenris strode past. Varric sat where Fenris had left him, conversing with a wary Abelas who had returned. Both stood quickly at the sight, eyes wide.

“Makers balls, what did you do Chuckles?” Solas eyes opened just a crack but Fenris strode past them. Abelas rushed to their side, concern and panic littering his usually well masked face.

“He did too much. Too quickly.” He snarled the words to Abelas as Solas stirred, his palms grasping at Fenris’ chest weakly. “Bring to us what the serving woman brings when she returns.” He strode through the rotunda quickly, glad most of the others were asleep already. Seeing their leader like this would only cause problems. They strode into a small corridor off the main room, and Abelas pointed to a door.

“In there.” He opened the door and Fenris pushed on through, the door closing behind him. The room was small, a single bed pressed against the wall with a desk and chair at the end of it. The room had no other furnishings, save for a storage chest beside the door. Fenris leaned down, laying the mage onto the threadbare sheets as the door opened. Fenris glanced back, and Abelas nodded as he set a platter containing meat, bread and a jug of what Fenris assumed was water on top of the large chest. He pulled some flasks from a bag and set them there as well: an assortment of reds, blues and yellows.

“I will not be far.” Fenris nodded his thanks, teeth still clenched with fear or panic or anger, he couldn’t really tell anymore with the maelstrom of emotions swirling through him.  
Fenris moved to the chest, pouring water into the simply wooden cup alongside it. He pulled the stopper from each of the coloured flasks in turn with his teeth, pouring a small amount of each flasks contents into the water. He grasped the small bundle of finely ground elfroot that sat alongside the food, and returned to the bedside. He grasped under the mans arms, and pulled him into a sitting position, his back leaning heavily against the headboard.

“Chew this.” He pressed the herbs to the mans slips, and he took them without protest. His face twisted at the taste of the raw herb, as Fenris placed the cup to his lips.  
“Drink”. The mixture dribbled down his chin as he drank it, but after a moment his eyes opened a little wider. His breath had evened out somewhat, no longer panting like before.  
  
“I… Thank you.” Fenris peeled the man quickly out of his clothing, leaving him in only the soft cloth breeches he wore under his armour.

“Sleep. I will not be far, should you need anything.” Fenris rose to leave, but one too pale hand lazily clasped his hand.

“Stay.” Fenris scowled down at him.

“There is no room.” He protested, but the elf was pulling weakly down anyway. Fenris pulled free of the grasp but sighed, and pulled off his own armour. He rested it in a neat pile on the desk, and slipped his under-tunic over his head. His belongings were elsewhere, so he would have to sleep in his clothing. Fenris pulled the elf to the side, slipping the bedsheet from underneath him, and slipped into the bed. The sheets were cold and stiff, and Fenris frowned in confusion as he felt cold fingers slipping along his torso almost like a caress. The mage clambered onto Fenris’ chest, pushing closer until he hung like a cold limpet to Fenris’ flesh. His flesh tingled with magic and he squirmed slightly, resisting the urge to flinch at the cold of the other man’s flesh.

“Lyrium…”

Fenris pulled the man closer, arms clasping around him to increase the contact as the mage’s face pressed tightly into his neck. His lyrium burned slightly where their flesh touched, and he squirmed at the pull he felt there. He signed as Solas breath evened out, slipping into an exhausted sleep within minutes.

Fenris’ fingers tightened slightly around the man’s back as he stared at him. For now, the man would sleep. Tomorrow, Fenris would put an end to this.

* * * * 

Fenris’ eyes fluttered open slowly to the sound of voices, and he flinched as the light pierced through his aching skull. His limbs felt heavy, and not just because there was a sleeping elf lying on them. His brow furrowed as his mind slowly began to wake up, and the voices became louder.

“Look, I know he’s your boss and I’m the enemy but he was my friend. I’ve waited long enough to see if he’s alright.” Fenris looked over towards the door just as it burst open, revealing a dwarf and a stern faced Abelas behind him, hand outstretched to stop his entrance. Too late.

“Chuckles—” He stopped, eyes flitting quickly between the two elves. Fenris looked down, realising too late the sight they presented. Fenris growled in frustration, one hand coming up to rub aggressively at his forehead. He opened his mouth the speak, but one pale hand pushed against his chest and the body that lay on him rose up.

“I am alive, Varric. I…” He smiled sadly for a moment. “Thank you, my friend. For your… concern. I did not know if I deserve it from you.” He shifted off him, eyes still dark with remaining fatigue but nowhere near as bad as he had been the previous night. He staggered on sleep deadened limbs, mixing up another of the potions in water and downing it one quick motion.

“I slept too long. Has she woken?” Varric sighed, and stared at him.

“No, she is still unconscious. Chuckles, you can’t keep draining yourself like you, she wouldn’t want—” He set the cup down firmly, turning to the dwarf with his jaw set tightly.

“She will die, If I do not. I know my limits, I will stop when I reach them.” Fenris snarled, throwing back the sheets.

“You do not know anything, mage. You will kill yourself over this”. He rose from the bed, a wave of dizziness washing over him before it settled again. Anger stirred in his gut, renewing with a vengeance now that he knew the man was alright. “You will not do this again. Find another way, I forbid it.” He snagged his tunic from the table and pulled it over his head, as Solas glared at him and mixed another of the diluted potions and handed it to him.

“She would have succumbed to the anchor long before we got to her, had we tried any other way. I will not stop, Da’fen. You cannot forbid me…” Fenris growled at the other elf’s irritated voice, downing the cup of bitter water and slamming it down. His fingers spasmed around it angrily. The man had no right to be angry at him.

“Fine. Die from your own foolishness.” He rose, and stormed out, pushing Abelas out of the way with his shoulder as he stormed out. Fenris didn’t know where he walked, he just did so aimlessly. He stormed through hallways, fists clenched tightly. His throat felt tight with anger and hurt.

Fenris was his lover, yet he had no say, no influence on the man. Not really. He had thought, just for a moment, that Solas would have at least considered his wishes. Searched for an alternative, while she still had time. He gritted his teeth and groaned, fists flexing at his sides as he stopped. He pushed his knuckles to his eyes, feeling light flash in his vision as he sighed heavily. At least, Solas could have showed some regret for his actions. He dropped his hands slowly, and cast his eyes down to his feet. He loved her, his inquisitor. Had it been Hawke, so many years ago, Fenris would have done the same. He has asked the impossible of him, and been hurt when Solas wouldn’t deliver it to him. He had demanded too much of him, he should go back…

Fenris grunted in pain as the ground rushed up to meet him. He fell to his knees, and cried out, his hand clenching ineffectively at the back of his leg. An arrow lay buried deep into the flesh and muscle beneath, and he groaned as his movement jostled the metal tip against the bone.

“Well well, if it isn’t the wolf’s bitch again.” He raised his head and snarled, as the face behind the bow emerged from behind him. He recognised her face and mouthful of dirty, rotted teeth. The woman guard who had assaulted him outside Solas’ rooms.

“You got me put out. You lost me a lot of coin, bitch.” He flared his markings as she approached.

“Come closer, and I will show you your still beating heart.” His teeth clenched as he grasped the arrow, tugging slightly. Agony burned through the abused flesh, and he hissed through clenched teeth. It was too deep, it would have to be cut out or pushed through the other side.

“Is that so?” She grinned as she took a few steps forward and leaned down, leering at him.

“These other maniac elves don’t pay as well, but at least they get me you. You should have watched your back, dog.” She cackled, as pain bloomed on the back of Fenris head and nothing, but darkness followed.

\------------------------------------------

“I should go after him.” Abelas stepped towards the door, head tilted to one side. Solas sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and growled half-heartedly in frustration. His chest clenched uncomfortably. He wanted to go himself, but time was not their friend here.

“No… he is well aware he isn’t safe here. He won’t go far.” Though he should not leave him along for long, regardless. Solas winced at the dull ache in his muscles, nothing compared to the bone deep fatigue he had felt the night before. “Give him some time. Fetch him within the hour… I have yet to fully recover, but I cannot stop now. I will need him.”

Abelas raised one eyebrow at him, but nodded and straightened, his arms reaching to clench behind his back and he eyes tipped down to the ground. A submissive stance he had yet to forget, and it made a thin sliver of anger run through him. It always did, seeing remnants of a past in chains. He wanted more than that for Abelas, for his friend.  
“I will speak to him tonight… I… understand. However, it is my duty to save her.” He frowned, closing his eyes for a moment. “I owe her that at least.” Abelas stared at him, disapproval evident in his features, but he nodded briskly.

“If you must. I have business to attend to.” He turned then, stepping briskly from the room, leaving a disheartened Solas in his wake. Solas dragged his nails lightly over his scalp and groaned when the room was left silent, allowing himself but a moment of self-loathing. He did not have more time for such… luxuries.

He rose, fetching an intricate elven weave tunic from the chest. Abelas must have placed it there sometime during the night he assumed, as he ran the soft silken material lightly through his fingers. Energy radiated from it’s surface, almost undetectable, but a powerful enchantment nonetheless. He glanced to the table, Fenris’ armour lay there still. Including the shirt he had shed the night before. He allowed himself a small chuckle, imagining the ball of naked fury that he was, rampaging through skyhold and he smiled at the image. The smile quickly soured, as he remembered the broken sight of his inquisitor upon the bed, her face contorted in pain.

He pulled the tunic on over the leggings that he still wore. He would have preferred to wash and change, dried sweat making for an uncomfortable feeling, but there would be no point once he began again. He would not admit it to anyone, but had his body not instinctively began to pull upon Fenris’ lyrium, he may not have survived the night. He winced at the thought. Using his lyrium was the initial reason Solas had brought him into this, and it had been necessary, yet now using him felt… wrong. The last thing in this world he wanted, was to use him like he had been used before. He grit his teeth at the memories he had glimpsed in the fade. If the man had not already been dead, Solas would have presented the man to his love on a silver platter.

He took a breath, and shook his head. Now was not the time to think of such things.

* * *  
Fenris moaned as his vision spun, all dark blurs and flashes. Pain ripped through his head as he was dragged back slowly to consciousness. More hot white pain searing through his head, as a sound split through his skull. Slowly, the sound made sense. Screams.

“It’s coming around, Grett.” A voice sounded, a low grumble. Fenris almost missed it, distracted by how his head felt like it was going to explode.

“Go get the boss.” The woman, Grett’s, voice was familiar. Fenris forced his head up, neck stiff and weak, and snarled as his memory returned to him. He tried to move, lyrium flaring on instinct, but found his numb arms were shackled above him. He became aware of his shoulders slowly, which burned in a flare of agony as the abused muscle flexed as he swung, his weak legs trailing uselessly below him in the dirt.

“Now, now, pretty boy.” Her hand clasped his chin, yanking it forward as her face came closer to his, rank breath causing him to gag. Her nails dug into his flesh painfully, and she smiled.

“No use trying. Mages made these chains, elf. None of your fancy shit’s gettin’ you out.” She cackled and thrust one fist square into his rib cage and he coughed violently as the pain seared through him. He swung pitifully, as spots clouded his vision once more.

“That’s enough.” Another woman’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, but Fenris found his eyes unable to focus. The woman grumbled, but leaned in once more with a smirk.

“You shouldn’t have fucked with me.” Then she turned, retreating but not leaving the room. Fenris coughed and snarled. She wanted to watch. The new woman approached him, dark hair and a fair face, a strange look in her eyes as she regarded him. She trailed one finger down the lyrium on his chest, her finger searing with magic. He hissed, eyes watering as he instinctively squirmed away from her. Her eyes flickered up to his own and she frowned at him before removing the finger as quickly as it had arrived. He snarled at her, eyes wild and teeth snapping. A mage.

“Drawing on it causes you pain.” She looked at him, as if expecting him to answer. He glared, and spat onto the dusty ground below. He panted, eyes never leaving hers, as he waited. She paused, a moment more, but seemed to take her answer from his silence.

“That was unexpected.” She paused, grabbing a rag on a table nearby and dipping it into a bucket of water. She returned, and wiped the cool water over the back of his head and neck. He hissed as dried blood flaked from the wound on the back of his head, and he felt fresh blood begin to seep from it. He snapped at her arm with his teeth, but the tingle of magic in the air told him she had cast. A misdirection spell, if his inability to get near her was any indication. Healing magic washed over his skin there, just for a moment, and he couldn’t help but pant in relief.

“The way we must manipulate the lyrium within your skin is complex. We had hoped, with your abilities and our reports that you can be drawn from, that your experience would be no different than that which you know already.” She dropped the rag back into the bucket, and turned to him, her face grim.

“We must go forward, regardless. Simply know that no joy will be taken from your pain… but it is unavoidable. We will make it as quick as possible.” He shifted, head swimming a little bit less now, and he pulled his feet beneath him. He panted with the effort, clenching his teeth against the nausea that followed, but she waited patiently.

“What do you… intend to do with me.” He panted, the words difficult to collect in his mouth and even more difficult to utter.

“You are necessary to free our masters. We will tear down the veil, without the destruction of the Gods.” She stepped back, hands clasped behind her back.

“We want the same thing that you do. We want our people restored, we want our kingdom to be rebuilt and magic to be the birth right to us all. We want it restored, as it was. With our Gods at it’s head, and the trickster brought to heel.” She looked at him pleadingly.

“Can you not see it? He tricks you, even now. He will use you and all his followers to bring back our past, but your efforts will only put him in power. The Dread Wolf will have sole rule over the entire world, because he tricked you into thinking he wants it for you.”

Fenris paused, then snarled, his chest rumbling with rage. He laughed darkly.

“You think that he tricks us? When it is your Gods who would put you all in chains. The Dread Wolf wants the past returned, the shackles broken. He wants all of us to be free.” He surged forward, fear and anger raging within him, straining against the shackles.

“Your God’s lie to you. They will take their thrones and revel in your suffering. The Dread Wolf… is a better man than all your God’s combined.” She stared at him, disappointment on her face.

“So be it….” She turned, and walked slowly across the room to the heavy door set in stone.

“Remember this. You chose those chains.”

Grett smiled across the room smiled, and cackled as she approached with malice and cruelty in her eyes, and that moment… he felt afraid.

\----------------------------------

Solas bowed his head, willing is wavering vision to stare at the stone floor beneath him. He panted, clutching uselessly in the bedsheets he knelt beside in an attempt to control his breathing. He felt no pain yet, simply a heaviness of the limbs and a darkening of the vision, whispering a promise of aching muscles in the night to come. He forced his head up just so, forcing himself to take in the vision of his old love before him. _Your fault._

Her placid face lay nestled in the blankets, matted blonde hair as slick with sweat as the rest of her. A thin white nightgown stuck to her sweat-damp flesh, hugging her unhealthily slim figure. The leather belt was clenched between her teeth and her eyes shined wetly in the low candle light. It was not yet night, but the lowering sun cast long shadows in the room and the birds no longer sang, leaving eerie silence. Her eyes watched him, unfocused, eyelids almost fully closed as she breathed shallow, rapid breaths so quiet he almost couldn't hear them. He stared, sorrow slithering through him with every second their gaze lingered on each other.

"Fen'harel." The door behind him burst open, and the voice spoke of urgency, but it could wait a moment. He swallowed, his throat uncomfortably dry as he swept his gaze over the now blood-stained sheets. He would not leave her bleeding and in pain. He waved one hand over the ragged mess of the inquisitor's hand, laying limply on the bed, and the blood flow slowed to a slow ooze.

"Fen'harel." The tone was more urgent. Abelas hurried forward, his jaw clenched tightly, and his mouth pursed into a tight-lipped frown as he grabbed onto Solas' arm just as he began to pour a light healing magic into the arm to numb her pain.

"He cannot be found." Solas froze, eyes snapping to his. _Fenris._

Abelas nodded grimly, tugging gently on the arm. Abelas had never deigned anything important enough to touch him before, the last remnants of his servitude subconsciously breaking through to make the man avoid all touch.

"How long?" Solas allowed himself to be tugged away from the bed, but cast a quick glance back and stopped before the door. Solas didn't like to admit it, but he was unsure how long had passed since he had entered this room. The process was an intricate one, the gentle weaving of magic through flesh without destroying it. It took practice and a great deal of concentration. He had no idea how long Fenris had been missing, and that thought lay like a stone in his gut. Abelas straightened, hand dropping from his arm as if he had been burned when he noticed his own actions, but he did not apologise. _Good._

"I searched after only an hour, but found nothing. The dwarf and the Tevinter mage insisted on searching on their own." His frown deepened, and he shifted from one foot to the other in agitation. His teeth grinding in almost imperceptible anger. "They found blood."

Solas shook his head, fists clenching as he began to pace.

"His?" The word was clipped, adrenaline beginning to pump through his tired veins as a panicked rage slithered through him. Abelas nodded slowly.

"There is no way to be certain, but it stank of lyrium. I believe so." Solas ran his palm hard down his face and snarled into the flesh of his palm. He nodded once to the other elf, but turned his head towards the pale figure on the bed. He approached her slowly, crouching down slowly beside her. He raised his palm to her face gently cupping her cheek. He slowly allowed his magic to lick though the skin, the wave passing through her to numb the pain. She sighed quietly in relief, pressing into the touch like a wounded kitten.

"Ir Abelas, Vhenan." He leaned forward to kiss her temple gently. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"Go, ma lath. I will live. I can wait another day." He frowned, chest tightening at the weakness in her voice. He pulled away from her reluctantly and rose up.

"I will return, Inquisitor." He let his mask fall into place, his tone calm and neutral. He should not have let himself do that. He needed to be her enemy, needed her to forget about him. His chest clenched painfully at the though as he turned to Abelas.

"Show me."

\-------------------------------------

"I know so much about you, Fenris." The mage slowly moved around him, with the predatory grace of a hunter. He could feel the magic simmering under her skin as she walked, deadly but contained. He coughed, spluttering as the taste of iron from his nose tickled the back of his throat, moaning pitifully as the movement caused the intense ache along the lines of his lyrium to pulse angrily.

"Would you like to know something about me?" She steps aside, only to appear moments later with the sound of wood dragging behind her. She set the chair down, oddly gently, and sat on it with her legs neatly crossed. Her slim fingers clasped over her knee, which would have been a polite way to sit had her fingers not been covered in Fenris' own blood.

"My name is Mahairel." She leaned back and observed him sadly, her eyes following the soft ooze of blood that seeped from the outer lines of his lyrium where she had pud and tweaked at it. Her magic had slipped through it, around it, underneath it. Poking and prodding, pulling and twisting at the substance in his flesh in a slow burning agony that had him screaming until his throat grew hoarse. Now, he hung limp from the shackles that held his arms painfully above him, throat as raw as an open wound. Speech was not something he would even entertain the thought of, but that did not seem to trouble the woman.

"This does not have to be like this." She learned forward, head tilted innocently.

"If you chose to help us, instead." this would go a lot faster. We could provide you with something to dull the pain. We could take the time to find a way to make this. more pleasant for you. Less... damaging."

He tried to snarl at her, bloodied teeth bared, but the motion sent what felt like razor blades sliding down his throat and the sound turned into a high pitched moan. She sighed and rose from the seat, walking slowly towards him again.

"A pity." She placed her hand on his chest lightly, but her magic was anything but light.

It twisted deep into his chest and sent his heart pumping like a frightened hare. It felt as though his ribs were being pried apart, and the wrenching sensation sent waves of white hot pain snaking through him from his head to the very tips of his toes to dragged uselessly along the ground. The room was bathed in blue light as his lyrium was forced to life. His head fell forward, body twisting and convulsing in his chains, his back arching unnaturally. His bones creaked, fingers clenching on the thick chain above him so hard the snapping of small bones rang through the air. His head fell limp beside him as the next wave came, and he opened his mouth to scream but found that he could not achieve even that. He whimpered pitifully, eyes clenched shut, clutching at the memory of soft lips and unhurried pleasure as a distraction but even that was washed away. He shuddered as another spasm wracked through him. He could not even think of home.

\------------------------

"It isn't _enough!"_ Solas snarled the final word, teeth clenched and fist clenched tightly. His nails dug painfully into the palm of his hand, blood seeping from the small wounds but the pain was welcome. Grounding. They weren't doing enough, weren't covering enough ground. Fenris had been taken in broad daylight, right under the nose of the inquisition and it _wasn't good enough._

His men winced visibly under his anger as he breathed hard through his nose. Abelas stood at his side, pacing quietly but the anger radiating from him was obvious. The air of panic between them was obvious, but he could not allow himself to appear as such. Anyone else needed to see determination, not the flustered mess he felt swirling in his chest. His eyes snapped as one elven man entered the room, one of his scouts.

"Where is the spymaster?" He growled at the man, who came to a stop before him, a scroll clutched between his fingers.

"She gathers information, she will arrive soon. She sent this, however." He handed the scroll to him.

Solas nodded quickly, unravelling the scroll. If anyone could gather any useful information within the inquisition, it was Leliana. He had been gone too long, and the blood...

"Have you found anything else?"

Solas looked up from the parchment, a list of known escape routes from the point they had found the blood and the guard routes for that morning. Varric stood beside Dorian looking at him questioningly, the dwarf looking more flustered than Solas had even seen him. With the exception of the news after they had returned from the battle in the fade.

"Have you?" His words were sharp, more cutting than he had meant them to be. He waved to his men, ushering them to leave. They did so gratefully, if the speed with which they fled his presence was any indication.

"No. Sparkler here used every magic trick in the book, there was no trail." Varric shook his head, mouth opens as if clutching for words. "Nobody saw anything. Nobody heard anything."

Solas looked to Dorian slowly. The mage looked at him with sincere pity, and Solas had no doubt his assistance was genuine. His lover, however.

"Seems strange, Dorian. Swiped from the very midst of the inquisition stronghold, right under the spymaster's nose." He prowled forward. "Should I find that someone in the inquisition did this, they will be held accountable." Dorian's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. His fingers rose to twirl the end of his moustache idly.

"I give you my word as a Pavus, Solas. I know nothing of what has happened, or I would give you that information myself." Solas allowed himself a moment longer to stare, but nodded slowly. He sighed, grabbing and knocking back a rejuvenation potion quickly. He winced at the bitter taste, but the ache in his muscles lessened somewhat.

" _Fen'harel."_ The Orlesian lilt sang out clearly, distaste dripping from every word. He turned to smile, allowing just a touch of smug satisfaction seep into the expression. She was still bitter that he had kept himself hidden from her all those years.

"Leliana. I wish I could catch up, but I am afraid it will have to wait." She prowled over to where he stood, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Indeed. I have what you need." She took a roll out from where it had been tucked under her cloak, and rolled it out on the table in front of him.

"We must not delay. I have found where they have taken him, or where he is most likely to be at least." She pointed to the map.

"We have inquisition camps here, here and here." She trailed her finger from each point. "Our mages at each camp have reported disturbances. Extreme surges of magical energy, enough that we believe this Fenris to be somewhere within this region." She circled a small area on the map, only a few hours ride from skyhold. It was a lot of ground to cover, with such an imprecise target, but it was better than the nothing he had before. He nodded gravely, turning to Abelas.

"Gather yourself and a small group, we leave as soon as possible." Varric made a noise of agreement.

"Don't think you're leaving me out of this one, Chuckles. He's my friend, and Bianca and I have something to say to the people that took him." He smirked, light slipping back into his eyes.

Solas smiled slowly, the panic in his chest easing a little.

For the first time in a while, he didn't feel like he hunted alone.

\--------------------------------------

Solas growled in frustration as his hart stumbled over a tree root hidden beneath the snow, but stroked the great beasts long neck to comfort him as the intelligent beast whined in response.

“Hush, that was not for you, my friend.” He reigned in his anger slowly, and the beast snorted softly, accepting his apology before continuing. They had taken too long to find a sign of a camp or soldiers, but after searching into the night they had finally found a trail. Solas had snapped and barked orders to continue their search, but Abelas had talked sense into him. He knew he had been right, stumbling around in the dark wouldn’t have helped them.

“Here.” Solas shouted to the others, as the horse trails which they followed through the snow veered off sharply to the right.

His hands tightened and loosened rhythmically on the reins in front of him as nervous energy shivered through him. Whether that was from his lingering panic, or from the many stamina potions that kept him upright he did not know. He had tried to find Fenris in the fade as he slept a few fitful hours the night before, but what he had found was… worrying.

He had found his essence in the fade easily enough, but it was formless and dark. Untouchable, and stank of fear. He had chased off a number of demons drawn the location, and as much as Solas tried he could not force the rest of Fenris’ consciousness into the fade. His eyes had felt like sand paper when he woke, the fatigue heavy in his bones but they are rose at the first sign of light to start again.

The trudged on until the snow melted away into a light sludge as grass became more dominant on the terrain. The path would be harder to pick up here… but Solas head snapped up from where it had stared, scanning across the ground as a shiver pulsed across his skin. He straightened in his saddle, eyes catching Abelas’ as he approached on his own mount. The shiver slipped across his skin again, like a thin touch of ice on warm skin. Almost imperceptible, but Solas’ magic was far too in tune with his surroundings for him to miss it.

“You feel that?” Abelas nodded grimly, tilting his head like a curious animal as another wave made their skin twitch.

“What’s up, chuckles? You found something?” Varric shouted from somewhere behind them and he turned his head briefly. He caught Abelas’ eyes and nodded.

“We are getting closer. Follow.” Abelas nudged his own, smaller heart into a faster pace with a brief tightening of his legs. Solas followed, face set in a grim frown.

That power he knew well, but it felt erratic like the beat of a frantic heart. It felt wrong, and he was going to make every single one of them pay for this… but at least it was a sign he still lived. For now.  
\---------------------------------------

Solas!

Fenris yelled, relief slipping through him like a tidal wave as he ran forward but the man never tried to turn towards him. The form was… unclear, but it was him.  
Fenris panted as he ran forward, but each step felt like a weight pushed into his chest. He forced himself forward, as far as he could stand the pressure, Solas’ voice sounded muffled and weak. As if Fenris were hearing him through water.

Solas spoke, lips moving softly but Fenris could not hear him. He snarled, helplessness tightening his chest further. He clenched his teeth and let out a choked whine, forcing another step towards him. He screamed for him again, but it did not take long for Fenris to feel weak and drained. Useless. He was forced to take a step back, as the pressure became too much for him to bare, almost forcing him to his knees.

I’m… here.

He almost choked out the words, as he watched the mage snarl and banish what looked like a demon of fear from the place. Solas still could not hear him. He watched as the other elf snarled and paced, magic glowing lightly from upturned palms. The pressure in his chest eased slightly, sounds becoming cleared. He heard the man snarl, rage evident. He threw his hands down in frustration and Fenris clenched his fists tightly to stop himself from reaching out once more. Fenris panted weakly as he took in the mage’s face, he hung his head and held them in his hands. When he looked up again, his eyes were glistening as if wet, but his face was set in grim determination. He stared off in the wrong direction, past were Fenris stood.

“Vhenan… coming…” He spoke softly, so softly Fenris had to strain to hear it.

“Find you…. love…” Fenris stared, silent as he heard the admission.

He watched until the man had long since gone, with his jaw set in determination. He would survive this, somehow, because Solas had called him love… and he was coming for him.

\------------------------------------------

“We are ready, lethallan.” She bit her lip in sadistic pleasure as she looked upon his beaten form, and leaned back slightly.

“Then let us begin.” She murmured, and sliced… but a hand quickly descended upon Grett’s wrist, halting the slide of cold metal upon his flesh. Fenris hissed quickly as a shallow wound opened on his throat, a thin wet trickle sliding down onto his bared chest.

“Not here.” Mahairel frowned down at him sadly for a moment, before pulling the ornate knife gently back and jerking her head in the direction of the door.

“The courtyard.” Grett growled her disapproval through clenched foul teeth, but sheathed the knife at her side. She grinned at him sadistically then, and grabbed him with each hand around his shackled wrists.

The shackles released with a heavy sound of snapping metal, but he did not have the strength to keep up. He slumped heavily on numb knees, held up only by her tight grip. He grunted as his body protested the new position, arms searing with the pain of injured muscle, head hanging down limply before her.

He squinted as the blood trailed from a reopened wound into his eyes. Thin, ice cold fingers clasped his chin gently. He stared at the elven mage through slitted eyes as she pulled his gaze up to meet hers, mustering as much of a glare as he could manage. His body could barely muster the simple twitch of muscles required for even that, as he slumped heavily in Grett’s grasp.

“We didn’t have any more time, I couldn’t make it easier…” She released his chin, which fell limply once again. “I am sorry… for what is to come.”

Fenris cried out as his arms jerked forward, muscles screaming in agony as his knees dragged painfully behind the burly woman that held him. He heard the heavy door open as he watched his legs left a bloodied trail across the dirt below him. He closed his eyes, teeth clenching at the wave of anguish flooded over him.

Solas would not find him.  
It was too late.

\-----------------------------

“Whoa, Chuckles!?” Solas barely registered the dwarf’s shouted words, as his hart reared suddenly, startled by the magic suddenly flaring under it’s masters skin.

Abelas turned his own hart abruptly, dismounting quickly to calm the frantic beast, but Solas’ eyes were wild, anguish evident on his face. His breath came in rapid short burst, his chest constricting rapidly. Breath becoming impossible by the second.

“Fen’harel.” Abelas pulled the man from his saddle, grasping his shoulders tightly. Solas fingers curled into the hard metal of his armor, the cold bite grounding him but he simply stared through him. Abelas’ expression was tight, his own fear evident but well-guarded. He placed on hand behind Solas’ head, forcing Solas eyes onto his own.

“Solas.” Solas blinked slowly. He had never called him by his true name before. Forcing his breath to slow somewhat, his thoughts still flittered like a running beast.

“It’s gone.” The words came out a choked whisper. He could feel his own pulse throb in his throat. The whisper of power they had been following had become stronger as they followed it’s path, migrating from a whisper to a caress across the skin to something more. Solas had felt the first signs of hope fluttering in his chest, not long before it was gone.  
He was gone.

“That does not mean he is gone.” Abelas’ head was downturned, the full gaze of his stare impaling him. Forcing attention. He would make a good leader, one day.

“The lyrium is no longer activated. That does not mean he is gone.” Solas blinked, swallowing thickly as he shook his head. He pulled from the man’s grasp, backing up a few steps. He had allowed his mask to slip completely. Slipped into blind panic at a simply notion that his heart was gone, did not even think before falling into that dark pit.

Solas stared at the wet, cold hardened grass beneath his feet and breathed for long moments. He breathed deeply, the spiraling anguish inside him slowly turning numb and cold. Abelas nodded back to him curtly when he was sure, swiftly mounting his abandoned beast as Solas followed suit stiffly.

“Move on.” Solas kept his gaze to the ground, fists clenching as he probed uselessly with his own power for any trace of Fenris’ that might be left behind. Nothing. He could feel gazes upon his back, the air felt heavy.

His own people knew of their relationship of course, but he doubted many thought it more than a matter of convenience. He stiffened as hooves crunched towards him on the hard ground, and someone awkwardly cleared their throat. Solas sat up stiffly in his saddle, slipping his mask into place. Cracked as it was.

“We are not retrieving the elf for his usefulness to your cause are we, Solas?” Dorian spoke softly, voice low as though not to be overheard.

“No.” Solas answered curtly, nails biting into his palms as he clenched the reins.

“Then…” Dorian shuffled in his saddle, eyes intent on the elf’s back. “Know that I am here as your friend. Not as the inquisition.”

Dorian chuckled then, and Solas turned to look at him with surprise evident on his features.

“Love takes us to the strangest places.”

Solas smiled slowly.

“Yes. It does.”

\-----------------------------------

Solas hissed quietly as the power racked across his skin, just on the brink of painful. It has started but a few moments ago, but it felt more wrong now than it ever did before. It made him wish he had not wanted it back.

Abelas looked behind him from where he crouched low in the front of him, his face stern as he felt the same unease.

“We must hurry.” They crept forward once again, footsteps as light as they could make them.

The cave was dark, but they dared not light the way with more than a faintly glowing palm in front of them. The cave-like tunnel walls were damp, glistening as the faint light caught the rough planes of it’s surface. The power grew as they crept forward, like fingernails dragging too hard against the skin. It left his flesh feeling raw and open, but there was no sign of even a light redness to the skin.

The long tunnel has no side passageways, but got smaller as they progressed. The walls closing in on them. It was quiet. Too quiet. They had yet to encounter any form of resistance, and that alone put them on age.

“This is futile. This goes nowhere…” One of the archers behind him muttered, and Solas clenched his fists as the quiet, simmering rage below his skin tingled. The boy did nothing to deserve that rage, but Solas’ chest was too tight and all he wanted was to put his fist through the nearest wall. The tunnel began to brighten as they continued, but they could not yet see it’s end.

“That lyrium of his better be worth it.” He muttered, and Solas felt his control snap. He turned abruptly to the man, seizing him by the shirt as he yanked him close. Teeth clenched into a snarl. He opened his mouth to growl at the man, his free fist flickering with wild magic.

“You insolent—” but that was all he got out. Before the screaming started. Solas’ head snapped back to the direction they had been heading, and he dropped the startled archer as if he had been burned. Blood curdling screams rang in the distance, like a live animal being torn to shreds with no hope of escape. He ran.

Footsteps thundered behind him, all thought of stealth gone. The tunnel spilled out onto an open ledge, a set of steps curling down along the wall to the floor of the large circular room. The place had obviously once been a domed structure, but time had crumbled the place so all that remained were crumbling walls and the open sky above. Veins curled around almost every surface, only slivers of crumbling ornate carvings peaked through to see the light. The carvings along the floor were cracked and some parts crushed to dust, save for the centre. Fresh new carvings were cut over the old. Filled with blood.

“No….” Bodies were scattered around the central carvings, their throats slit and eyes lifeless. Their blood flowed into the new runes carved into the ground, the scarlet liquid bubbling as if boiling. As they watched, tendril like limbs pulled forward from the blood, slipping their way across the ground to curl up around the spasming feet of the bloodied form tied to a pillar in the centre.

“Fenris.” Abelas horrified whisper hit Solas like a bolt of electricity.

“Vhenan!” He screamed, as Fenris’ form spasmed and writhed, mouth open in now silent screams. Shallow cuts trailed along his throat and chest, his head thrown back hard against the pillar behind him. A woman stood, palms glowing a dark red colour as she dragged the blade down the arm that had yet to be marked. The sickening, tainted power pulsed with ever slice into his skin.

“The Harellan’mi. How did they get it?” He heard Abelas snarl, as he rushed forward. He took the crumbling steps as fast as he could. The decent was long, too long. Solas heart seized in his chest, not caring as the air burned in his throat with every step. The power seared against his skin with each release. He snarled as shouts came from the floor below and the sound of arrows flying sounded around him. An arrow sank into his shoulder as he ran. He stumbled, but yanked the shaft from his flesh with a growl, not caring as the head tore flesh from him.

He fade stepped, raw energy searing across the open wound, but the sky above shuddered and rippled. A green taint slipping into the sky, spreading like the tendrils that wrapped around Fenris’ body.

He growled, enclosing his body in rock as he wrenched his staff from his back. His feet stung as they landed heavily on the ground floor. He let out a rabid sound as men enclosed him, steel ringing against the rock as they descended upon him. He slashed the bladed end of his staff, parting flesh in a sea of blood. He spared barely a glance up to the platform high above where his own men stood, loosing arrows down on them as others ran to join the fray below. He fade stepped forward once again, past the crowd of bodies. Close enough to see the muscle protruding from Fenris’ body as he spasmed, body twisting unnaturally around the wooded pillar he was tied to.

“You are too late, Dread Wolf.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at him, the final flick of her wrist completing the pattern along the limp hand within her grasp. He snarled at her, teeth bared like the wolf that was his namesake.

“Look around you. The tear has been created, you are too late. Do you not feel it?” She smiled, and Solas wanted to rip it from her, but he did feel it.  
He felt the magic slither along his skin, slipping into the very air itself. It was almost complete.

“You know how this works, Dread Wolf.” He voice echoed throughout the room, and a small grim frown graced her lips.

“The process has started. Should he die, the process stops.” The woman backed away from him, gesturing the weakly seizing form of Fenris. The tendrils of sacrificed blood had wrapped around him now, the blood slipping along the lines of lyrium on his body like the flow of a river, slithering around his body like serpents. The woman dropped the dagger to her feet, and turned to walk away.

“We know all about him, Fen’harel. Who he is, who is was. Who he is to you.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, seeming uncaring to the clash of blades around them. “Choose. Kill him, or we have won.”

Solas cried out, fade stepping towards her. He plunged the blade through the flesh of her back, pulling her body towards his as the blade sliced and crunched through flesh and bone. He panted, breath coming quickly as he pushed her body away. She crumbled to the ground, but he did not spare her even a glance.

“Solas!” Abelas voice broke through the din of battle. As Solas stepped towards the pillar, he could barely hear him. His eyes focused on the twitching body before him. He could not lose him. He had lost too much. His home, his people, his world. He had let the inquisitor go, told himself not to allow himself to love again. He could not lose this too.

“I can’t.” His voice was choked and raw, and only then did he realise his cheeks were wet.

“Fen’harel.” Abelas looked up, to the cracking thunder in the sky. “It is almost done.”

Abelas’ face was stern, but that mask was crumbling as he stared at the bloody mess that was left of his friend before them.

“I. Can’t.” He did not even know if Fenris would live, if the process completed. Yet he would not, could not, make the choice. The gurgles of the dying behind them meant nothing to Solas, not when the pitiful whimpers escaped his Vhenan’s lips still.

“Ma lath.” He stepped forward, trailing his finger against those cracked and bloodied lips, not caring for the bite of the lashing power that seared along his skin at the touch. He leaned forward, resting against his forehead against his. Fenris’ eyes stared out, unseeing, and that gaze caused a pain in his very core.

“You can’t let this finish, Fen’harel!” A voice from his men behind him sounded. Abelas’ arm came to rest of his shoulder, tugging him gently.

“Your orders, falon.” He pulled away, locking his wet gaze with Abelas’. He closed his eyes, as if to will the choice away. He has given everything for this. His mistakes, everything was his fault.

“No.” He whispered it, and Abelas nodded. He turned, the last of their men pulling their swords from the fanatics who had not had the sense to flee.

“Get the healers! Search the place. Kill anyone you find that is not ours. We move out when the process has completed.” He stepped away. He may not live, but Solas had made his choice.

“What? You’re just going to let this happen!?” The archer from the tunnel cried out. Solas did not turn, simply kept his eyes on his heart.

“Do as you are commanded, soldier.” Abelas growled the warning but the man shook his head.

“You’re were meant to lead us away from this, Dread Wolf.” Solas began to turn, but he was too late. The man’s arrow sliced through the air, and time seemed to slow. Solas eyes widened.

He cried out as the arrow pierced through Fenris’ quivering form.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Fenris whimpered, darkness surrounding him. This place felt heavy, almost as if he were underwater. He thrashed against the heavy weight of his own limbs, stumbling blindly.

He screamed as the pain stirring in his gut intensified, as if someone were cutting him from the inside. He fell in the darkness, writhing and curling in on himself.

"I am here, ma lath.” He could not see, could not feel. The voice was faint, and fading.

“I will not leave you, my love…” The voice was even fainter now, like a whisper on the wind. Fenris whimpered as all sensation faded slowly to black.

\--------------------------------

“I am here, ma lath…” Fenris whimpered in his sleep, crying out in pain. His arms began to thrash against Solas’ chest where he cradled his beaten form.

“I will not leave you, my love…” He rested his lips against the mans forehead and breathed, holding him as he thrashed. The other elf’s fingernails scraped painfully against him, but he held him firmly. He trailed one fingertip lightly along the pink scars that had been trailed into Fenris’ skin. The blood magic used had made the skin difficult to repair.

He had almost lost him.

He did lose him, for a few brief moments over the week that had passed.

He pushed his face into Fenris’ neck and breathed.

He would never allow that to happen again.

\------------------------------------------

“Ugh…” Fenris groaned quietly in disgust as he pried his heavy eyelids open, lids stuck tight with sleep. His vision swam, nausea curling in his gut, but he felt warm, content. As if warm fingers tickled gently along his skin… nothing like the burning agony that had swept over him before. He remembered nothing after it had begun, but pain and the cries of the dying. The wrenching feeling of the veil being ripped apart.

His breath came quicker has memories dripped back into his mind, drop by drop. His vision adjusted to the darkness slowly. The curtains were drawn, and torches extinguished save for one low burning candle beside him.

He blinked slowly, muscles putting up an aching protest as he pulled one hand slowly from the cocoon of blankets around him. The movement brought his hand into contact with soft, warmed skin. He peeled the covers slowly down to reveal a head pressed into his side, an arm curled tightly around his waist as he slept. His chest felt tight as he looked at him, clad in only leggings, but cool air caressed Fenris’s sweat slicked skin unpleasantly and he grimaced, shifting slightly only to freeze when he gazed at his exposed flesh.

Thin lines carved expertly twisted along his flesh in a horrific compliment to the lyrium already embedded there, healed now to a puckered angry pink along his flesh. He trailed his hand along them in silent horror, following the line from the arm around his waist and stared as his fingertips reached the mess on his collarbone that creeped up to his shoulder.

The flesh here was angry and twisted, as if a demon had chosen to rip chunks from his flesh and a child had pushed it back together. The skin puckered around a central point, twisted and wet looking, were fingers of fire had cauterised the wound. He stared, shaking fingers hovering over the damaged flesh. He could not remember this part.

He felt the arm around him shift, and then there were gentle lips on his and hands clasping the sides of his face, pulling his vision from the sight of his mutilated flesh.

“Vhenan.” Solas’ voice was… broken. There was relief and self-hatred and love dripping from every syllable. Fenris fell apart at the sound, eyes wet as his hands clenched into fist on his shoulders, holding him close. They stayed there even after their lips parted, simply breathing. Solas’ finger slipped lower to clasp the sides of his neck, leaning in to breath in his scent.

“I thought…” His voice croaked, from disuse or emotion he didn’t know. I thought you were too late.

Fenris shook his head, leaning into the now cold fingers on his neck.

“How long?” He settled for, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Solas leaned in, his lips gently caressing his skin. His palms slid down his back, careful of the newly ruined flesh of the exit wound.

“It had been 4 weeks and 3 days.” His voice was thick but hardened as he continued. “In that time, your heart has stopped twice. Each time, I entered the fade and dragged you back, to a pain riddled body, because I was selfish.” Fenris felt his neck grow wet as he pressed his face further into his neck. “Because I am always…. always, selfish. This was my fault. I promised you that you would be safe there. I promised—” Fenris clasped the elf’s shoulders, pulling him from his hiding place and pressed their lips together tightly as the elf shuddered. When they parted Fenris held him, gaze pinning him.

“The only ambition I had, in what little I have had of a life, was to die free.” Solas’ face fell, but Fenris shook his head as he tried to pull his gaze from his. “That was before. When my only purpose for existence was running. I had reconciled myself to death long ago, especially after Hawke…. but now, I do not want to die.” Solas pressed their heads together gently, and Fenris smiled as he stared at him. “Thank you.”

They remained there for a moment before Solas drew back and Fenris watched him as he inspected the wound on his shoulder. He brushed away his fluttering, concerned fingers and glared at him half-heartedly.

“What happened?” Solas froze a moment and shook his head, rubbing his palm down his face briskly to clear his mind. “My memory is… hazy.”

“They used you, to attempt to tear down the veil.” His gaze turned sour and his voice took on that tone of self-hatred Fenris hated so much. “Like I would have. They, however, were children playing with magic they did not understand. She resorted to blood magic, using your blood and your lyrium to begin to tear at the veil. She tied the magic to your life. When I… refused… one of my own tried to kill you.” He gazed at the web of destroyed skin. “He did, kill you. In doing so, the magic was cut off. Incomplete. The veil was weakened, in places torn. The healers removed the arrow and cauterised the wound while I entered the fade to try to keep you here.”

“Torn?” Fenris brows furrowed in concern. The potential devastation was…. extreme, to say the least.

“Yes. Can you not feel it? The veil is so thin here, now. The world has not been returned to it’s former state, but more power seeps past the veil than before.” Fenris’ brow furrowed, but he did.

The sensation like fingers, dancing across his skin. Fenris shuddered in instinctual disgust, subconscious fear seeping through his veins like ice. Solas caressed his arm at the expression.

“It is enough for the more attune of the modern elves to become mages, but I believe that you are not so attune to it. The lyrium does not make you more vulnerable, it would simply make you more powerful had you become a mage. There is enough magic to make us more powerful, to return some of the old ways… and the other Evanuris.” Fenris eyes widened.

“They were released?” Solas hummed.

“I do not know. I know that there is the potential that their prison was damaged. Even had their essence escaped, there is again no way of knowing if they found their way to a breach in the veil to cross and find a host. We will not know unless they show themselves.” Fenris nodded, jaw set in a grim frown.

“We could attempt to dismantle the rest of the veil and strengthen their prison, if it remained intact, but I will not do that.” Fenris frowned at him.

“Why?” Solas gazed at him intently.

“I was selfish. It was my fault.” Fenris shook his head, but Solas shushed him. “No. I would have used you like they did, even if I would not have allowed it to happen like that.” He leaned in to kiss him heatedly. “I will never allow you to be used again, by myself or anyone else. That I promise you, and this time I will die before I break it.” Fenris closed his eyes and returned the kiss, heat building quickly.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” He whispered and Fenris smiled.

“And I, you, Amatus.”


End file.
